Fractured
by SovereignGFC
Summary: The Reapers are here, but things are different-ships from outside the known galaxy have arrived on the Citadel's doorstep. The newcomers bring fantastic technology that may aid in the fight, but will the infusion of power raise everyone up or tear the galaxy apart? Mass Effect x Star Wars (OC Only) x Borderlands. Rated M for intense sci-fi violence, language, and drugs.
1. Fury

If there was any person who could truthfully make the claim "the universe hates me" without the phrase ringing hollow, it would be Samantha Shepard. Born to spacers in the Alliance military, Sam's life was both routine and always-changing. Routine, as a military brat she knew to rise in the morning, do her exercises, attend classes and return home. Always-changing because her parents' constantly-shifting postings deprived her of any long-term friends. Enlisting as soon as she was able, Sam was swept up by what could only be called fate. The sole survivor of a thresher maw attack on Akuze (or so she thought at the time), Shepard's dreams were haunted by images of dissolving flesh, screams and blood.

Pulled into the Spectres as a face-saving gesture by the Council, depriving her then-commanding officer of his ship in the process, Sam pulled together a "band of misfits" to take down the rouge, Reaper-following Saren. Ashley Williams, eternally cursed by the actions of her grandfather, but driven to be a fine soldier for it. Kaidan Alenko, whose heroic sacrifice at Virmire ensured the destruction of Saren's krogan cloning facility. The masked Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, an awkwardly brilliant mechanical genius. Jaded-but-determined Garrus Vakarian, ex-C-Sec and top-level sniper. Loud, rough, but now-loyal Wrex, who only avoided being shot on Virmire due to the Commander's quick diplomacy. The resident bookworm, Liara T'Soni, rescued from a Prothean dig site, whose knowledge of the very same extinct culture proved invaluable in the hunt for Saren.

From rescuing the ExoGeni-backed colony on Feros to defeating an indoctrinated Matriarch, Sam's team had survived situations that almost made the Akuze nightmare seem easy. By taking down Saren/Sovereign, nearly being crushed by pieces of the latter, Sam and her team became living legends. The destruction of the SSV Normandy by an unknown enemy near the edge of geth space, and Shepard's assumed death were grave blows to galactic morale.

The circumstances surrounding Shepard's reappearance two years following her "death" only caused more discord. An apparent change in allegiance (to politically-minded types, "association" and "allegiance" were one and the same) to a pro-human splinter group of a resurrected Sam Shepard caused, in the words of one diplomat, a "political shitstorm." Still, she maintained an outward appearance of the quintessential hero—refusing to let fear or intimidation change her. After recruiting the "best of the best," surviving geth attacks, Collector ambushes and the inside of a derelict Reaper, Shepard figured attacking a Collector base would just be another mission.

In the hours leading up to passing through the Omega-4 relay…

After writing several angry messages, none of which she finished, Sam slammed her fist on her desk next to the Galaxy Map. Every possible curse flowed freely from her mouth, but she struggled to find words adequate to express her rage. Between Ash's unbelievable holier-than-thou talk on Horizon to the ice-box reception she'd gotten on Illium from Liara, Sam was convinced the universe had a sadistic sense of humor.

Even though she willingly deviated from the primary mission to help her team, Sam couldn't help but feel used. It seemed as if she was merely an accessory to solve everyone else's problems with no regard to how _she_ felt about the tasks at hand. She failed to stop Thane's son from assassinating a turian politician. Samara's daughter Morinth slipped out of a carefully-laid trap at the last possible moment. Miranda's sister took a bad hit during her evacuation. While her location remained secret from Miranda's overbearing father, it just seemed like yet one more "Fuck you" from the universe. To top it off, the quarians were actively agitating for a war with the geth. As a final indignity, her crew was taken from her right before the jump through the Omega-4 relay.

Sam slumped in a corner by the elevator, head bowed in defeat. Why? WHY? She took a larger-than-would-seem-appropriate amount of comfort from the fact that her crew's absence meant no one heard her outburst.

"Finally, something goes right for a change" she muttered. A sadistic smile played across her face. Right, the fact that no one was around to take note of the commander's veneer of calm cracking as she threw a temper tantrum was more important than the crew being hauled off by Collectors.

"Screw this. Let the galaxy burn" she thought. At least when the Reapers finally arrived, she wouldn't have to put up with being the galaxy's biggest tool any longer.

The elevator door opened. Out stepped Miranda, datapad in hand.

"Commander?" Miranda didn't see Shepard by the Galaxy Map, or at her terminal to the left of the stairs leading up to said map. She turned upon hearing a grunt from below.

"Shepard" she began, "We're headed for the Omega-4 relay, and should arrive in a few hours."

"Why do I even bother?" was the irritated reply. "Everything I touch turns into a disaster. My record isn't exactly as shiny as the news vids would have people believe."

She put up a hand, and began listing missions that didn't go as planned. "Kolyat got to Taleed. Blew his head right off right before I got to the apartment." Her inflection grew louder, more agitated, angrier. "Then that little bitch Morinth gave us the slip. And your sister gets shot in the back just when we all thought she was safe. And that quarian scout…"

Miranda cut into Sam's self-deprecating tirade. "None of us could have known there'd be an Eclipse sniper squad waiting at the transport terminal. And my father, you recall his ability to get almost whatever he wants. Including classified tactical cloaking technology. This isn't your fault!"

If Miranda thought this would somehow improve Sam's mood, she was wrong. The sheer ridiculousness of a Cerberus loyalist trying to cheer up the only survivor of a Cerberus-backed "experiment" involving thresher maws was not lost on either party. The resulting effect was similar to tossing a lit match into the hydrogen fuel used as a backup to the Normandy SR-2's fusion plant.

"Not my fault? NOT MY FAULT?" Sam roared. On her feet now, her hands balled into fists and a terrible expression appeared on her face. "I failed! I hid while my unit died on Akuze. They say I'm some kind of big fucking hero—I survived because I was a coward! Taleed would still be alive if I'd just punched that idiot stockboy back on the Citadel, but no, I had to try to play nice! Morinth escaped because of me! If I hadn't been so dumb as to try a slutty pose by that statue of a krogan in Morinth's apartment, Samara wouldn't have had to choose between me suffocating under a rock the size of Grunt and ending a four-hundred year murder spree!"

By this point Sam's breath was coming in short, ragged bursts. She was bent over, hands on her knees as she gulped air.

"I'm…going to my quarters…"

Sam stumbled into the elevator and disappeared.

_I really hope she can get it together_, Miranda mused, _or we're going to have one hell of a ride_.


	2. Flicker

Sam Shepard collapsed onto her bed. Her supple body wracked with sobs as she wondered just how she was supposed to pull this off. After what seemed like an eternity, she made her way to the bathroom, throwing herself into a cold shower.

As much as Sam did not like Cerberus, or Miranda, the woman had a point. This wasn't some extranet game where every failed mission could be reloaded from the last checkpoint, all the enemies' locations revealed by the latest Primo Strategy Guide. It wasn't like she _knew_ everything in advance and just failed to act properly—sub-optimal mission outcomes arose because of circumstances no one could have rightfully prepared for.

She sighed. "Shit happens, now how do I make the best of it?"

Walking over to the alcove formed by the cabin wall, desk and model-ship collection, Sam stopped. Transfixed by a single item, she stood at attention and saluted.

_If a tiny flicker of hope gets me through, then I'll take it_.

Returning to the bridge in anticipation of arriving at the Omega-4 relay, Shepard waited.

* * *

Millions of years passed as republics, empires, alliances, and all manner of civilizations rose and fell. Some looked inward, but others cast a wider net in search of others like them. The most current government, now spanning six galaxies in the cluster rather than just its home, was called the Trans-Galactic Republic, itself a sub-member of the Federated Cluster Union, a loose association of similar (multi-)galactic states controlling space for tens of millions of light years.

The TGR focused on economic expansion over military conquest. Combing star systems for unexploited resources, a survey team discovered a curious artifact drifting in a nebula. Marking it down as a possible "navigational hazard" (it was multiple kilometers in length), the survey team continued on its way. Several similar relics were located in various star systems, seemingly inert. Unable to determine the devices' function, TGR explorers ignored the behemoth constructs.

* * *

Commander Sam Shepard was well-aware of the purpose of mass relays. Having returned through the Omega-4 relay after taking down a Human-Reaper, destroying the Collector Base that housed it and flipping off the Illusive Man, she could hardly believe nothing "bad" happened (unless Joker's bouts of pain after firing an assault rifle counted). Unsure of how to proceed, Sam decided to head for the Citadel. In the meantime, the crew could begin repairs to the Normandy.

* * *

Even though the current Republic was not aggressive, it also did not take chances. As a result, the latest line of Heavy Multirole Militarized Starship, Explorer (or "HMMSE," usually pronounced "humsee") packed more firepower and weapons than previous iterations. Republic doctrine dictated that having lots of guns would hopefully mean not having to fire any of them. Named the _Curator_-class, at 2,500 meters in length, these ships carried impressive firepower. 88 quad turbolasers, 56 ion cannons and an assortment of more powerful weaponry dotted the hull. When over a hundred weapons firing wasn't enough, the large batteries mounted to the sides of the bridge block could be brought to bear. Each turret carried six barrels and had an overall output several times greater than its quad brethren. Nestled among these six-gun turrets were a pair of heavy ion cannon mounts per side capable of overloading the most advanced shields, leaving enemies helpless. If the captain was feeling particularly sadistic, five DKA-133.7 double turrets represented yet another level of increased destructive power. When It Just Had to Go Boom, long-range turbolasers at the bow left nothing alive. Capable of hitting targets over 10,000km away with devastating amounts of energy, these weapons were only eclipsed by superlasers.

Deployed as explorers to "see what's out there" while still retaining the ability to defend themselves, several had disappeared recently. Wanting to find out more, probes were dispatched to the locations where ships vanished. Only one common factor was evident: the presence of the strange artifacts.


	3. Arrival

A/N: I know Mass Relays aren't supposed to randomly shoot anything near them to another system in ME canon. They do here. Attack of the Applied Phlebotinum!

The return to the Citadel was surprisingly uneventful. No honor guard or red carpet, but on the other hand, no one attempted to haul the _Normandy_'s commander away for "working with terrorists." Maybe it had to do with the clear appearance of teeth-clenched teamwork involved in the venture, or perhaps it resulted from gratitude over the end to Collector attacks. Either way, Sam wasn't complaining. The only notable occurrence came in the form of a huge piece of space junk a few dozen kilometers from the Citadel. Whatever it was, it didn't match any design Shepard had seen before. A cordon forced _Normandy_ off-course, but the sheer bulk of whatever it was remained visible from kilometers away. Once _Normandy_ docked, there was practically a stampede as the war-weary crew all tried to get off the ship at once. Some headed for the Dark Star, including Legion (reason: further observation of organic social behavior). C-Sec's chronic inability to identify an actual geth, demonstrated by the flagging of two innocent asari as a risk for "geth infiltration," meant Legion's presence would probably be of no greater note than the rest of _Normandy_'s crew. Others sought to stuff themselves with the first "real" food they'd had in months.

Various members of Shepard's team had personal issues to handle. Thane wished to spend more time with his son. Garrus departed to have a "family chat" with his sister and father over vidcom, while Jacob stopped in to see survivors of the _Gernsback_ incident. Grunt simply had to see the Krogan Monument. While Grunt was not as mindlessly destructive as he could have been, Shepard took no chances, sending Miranda with Grunt to keep an eye on him. Kasumi planned to shop (whether she planned to spend credits was another matter entirely). Tali, with her engineering staff, visited every shop on the Citadel which sold starship parts, searching for any way to improve _Normandy_'s odds in a fight. Zaeed cleaned out several gun stores with his Cerberus paycheck, buying any ridiculously over-the-top weapon he could get his hands on. Rumor had it he was jealous of Shepard's M920.

A few stayed behind: Mordin to analyze yet more data, Samara to mediate and Jack (Shepard couldn't imagine Jack enjoying _anything_ on the Citadel). Shepard herself remained in her quarters, filing mission reports and doing other paperwork.

* * *

The disappearance of several ships (_Curators_, not exactly pushovers) while poking around the large, silver constructs that kept popping up in random places caused the Trans-Galactic Republic to display more caution. Henceforth, no vessel was to be closer than five kilometers to any "blue ball" (as the objects had become known, due to the purple-blue glow emanating from inside two spinning rings at the "back"). The Republic wasn't about to let these scientific curiosities remain unexplored, though. It was noted that probes placed next to the glowing, spinning portion tended to disappear in bright flashes of light. Initially, all contact with these probes was lost, but a modified probe equipped with a HoloNet transceiver was able to transmit a brief burst of data.

In the bridge conference room of the _Revenant_, the short video played on the viewscreen. Though it was less than a minute of footage, it told the Republic all it needed to know. The hull of a _Curator_ came into view, its dorsal escape pods jettisoned. The damage did not appear to be from traditional energy weapons—the hull had been torn and warped in several places. Holes drilled into or through the ship were either neat or left twisted messes behind. None showed the telltale glow resulting from turbolaser fire, nor did the blasts resemble strikes from known heavy ordinance. That meant either the ship was destroyed long enough ago for residual weapon energy to cool _or_ attackers had used weapons the Republic hadn't seen before. Due to the high power levels detected from the ship's still-functioning reactor, it was likely the _Starlight Wanderer_ had been attacked recently. Behind the wrecked ship, a space station spun slowly against a backdrop of purple, its five arms attached to a central torus. Ships of unrecognizable configuration appeared, there was a flash of light and the video ended.

Whatever could do that kind of damage to a _Curator _merited investigation.

* * *

_One day prior_

The _Starlight Wanderer_ edged closer to the huge "blue ball" construct. Captain Erickson wanted to get a better reading on the hypnotic blue-purple glow.

"One hundred meters…" came the report from helm.

"Get closer" she barked.

Anna Erickson had been promoted precisely because she excelled at exploration. As part of the Archaeological and Cultural Exploration (ACE) program, she discovered gravitational anomalies within the center of these blue spheres. For reasons as of yet unknown, the spheres' centers displayed unusual properties when examined with a Crystal Gravitational Trap: the mass changed, pulsing from high to low. Electrical impulses from the rest of the construct seemed to correspond with the alterations in mass, and Erickson was determined to find out more.

Fifty. Forty. Twenty…

Everything went nuts. The ship lurched forward, stars stretching into starlines.

"Report!"

Inertial compensators kept the crew from flying across the bridge, unlike in the holovids the crew loved (Space ACE Adventures topped the list—whenever engines failed the actors ended up flailing around the screen helplessly). In reality, sudden hyperdrive engagements were rather rare (usually from a faulty motivator), but they did happen. However, unless inertial compensators also went off-line, the only change was a rapid change of scenery outside the ship. This didn't look like hyperspace—more like the ship accelerated trying to reach lightspeed but never made it as elongated stars whipped past the ship without the expected transition to smooth white.

"Ma'am, the hyperdrive was never activated!" came a cry from Operations. "I don't know what we're in, but our speed is impossible!"

"Whatever happened, this is not normal!" came the response. "Go to General Quarters!"

As quickly as it began, the wild ride ended. Space returned to normal, though it appeared _Wanderer_ now near a planet. Space traffic near the planet seemed light. In front, a flotilla of ships, none of which Erickson recognized, moved out to meet the unexpected intruder.

On the bridge of the _Wanderer_, Erickson turned to her comm officer.

"Open a channel, see if these people are willing to talk to us."

A harsh, guttural sound filled the bridge, then abruptly cut off.

"I'll be damned if I shoot first" said Erickson. "initiate the Cartographer Protocol."

The Cartographer Protocol dictated that all Republic "explorer" type ships were to carry an easy-transmittable database of information about both the ship and the Republic for conveyance to new civilizations.

A communications officer spoke up, addressing Erickson.

"Ma'am, we have confirmation the data packets are away, and they should have been received."

"So now we wait."

* * *

The _Revenant_ and her attendant ships were the largest concentration of force the Republic Navy had ever gathered, christened _Terra Nova_ Fleet. Based on information pulled from the probe, it would be best to use a "blue ball" located in a nearby system (rather than the one used by _Starlight_) for travel to wherever the probe had ended up since, if the probe's readings were accurate, it was propelled at speeds impossible to achieve via hyperdrive before arriving at its destination. Plus, the device could also ensure the fleet arrived at the same destination the probe had before (avoiding whoever attacked the cruiser). Whether this device could accommodate the 35km long _Revenant_ would remain to be seen, as the ship was several times the length of the tuning-fork shaped construct.

Due to data gathered by several probes, in addition to sensor logs of nearby ships, the silver stations were given the formal name "mass pulsar" from the constantly-changing purple ball found at one end. It alleviated the myriad pool of nicknames (one included "hamster ball"), since every ship seemed to have its own phrase referring to the mass pulsars.

Fleet Admiral Grayson, in command of both _Revenant_ and the overall operation, opened a channel to the fleet.

"Let's give them something to think about—everyone follow _Revenant_. One-at-a-time after us!"

* * *

Minutes passed with no response, until a something slammed into _Starlight Wanderer's_ dorsal arc.

Erickson's XO, a chipper man named Jaruut Skelton, remarked "Well, that's certainly not a polite greeting." Speaking of the aforementioned attack, he continued "That might have knocked a plate loose or two if particle shields were down, but nothing we can't handle."

"Still" Erickson cut in, "raise energy shields."

If the crew of _Starlight Wanderer_ thought the journey to this foreign place a bit jarring, the remainder of the week would be downright rattling. Six massive ships appeared from nowhere, firing as they came. The yellow beams struck _Wanderer_ across the forward dorsal shield array. With only one shot per enemy, the shield had drained five percent.

"Definitely not friendly" growled Erickson. "Return fire!"

The assailants were easily within range of even the weakest of _Wanderer_'s weapons. Red quad turbolasers lanced out, causing brief spurts of fire to sprout from the attacking vessels, but that didn't stop the assault just yet. More weapons fire slammed into _Wanderer'_s forward shields. By this point, smaller support craft from cruisers down to starfighters had joined the fray, using the constant firing of the large dreadnaughts as cover. Just as with swarms of fighters from its home galaxy, _Wanderer_ had trouble swatting the "gnats" appearing as a cloud around the ship, as the majority of its own fighters were still docked. The dozen launched at the battle's onset had been torn apart.

Starship design in the TGR had swung to "big"—large vessels requiring a hefty screen to keep away those enemies which could not be smote by the main guns rather than nimble picket ships with effective point-defense armaments of their own. As a result, _Wanderer _took a massive beating from the only ships she couldn't hit, while larger enemies retreated as red sheets of death poured off the sides of the Star Destroyer. The six aggressors who began the conflict took terrible damage due to being bombarded by long-range turbolaser fire. Two were outright destroyed and three crippled beyond the ability to retreat. Only one slunk away.

Despite the victory over what appeared to be the enemy's largest vessels, Erickson found herself at a disadvantage. Her mighty ship was fast becoming combat-ineffective, stung by smaller vessels the big turbolasers could not hit. She gave the order to retreat, swinging the ship's bow 180 degrees while putting all shields aft, remaining power to engines. About to order a semi-blind hyperspace jump, she noticed another of the spinning-circle, blue-ball stations like the one that hurled _Starlight Wanderer _to wherever "here" happened to be.

"Let's head for that mass pulsar!" she barked, pointing at the swirling mass of energy. Angled alongside the construct, the massive ship surged forward, losing bits and pieces of itself as it went. The now-familiar sensation of almost-hyperspace took over, for a shorter period than the last time.

Emerging from "whatever that was," the forward viewport filled with purple. A space station resembling a five-petal flower spun in the distance.

"Go for the station, it might be our best chance!"


	4. Diplomacy

As the damaged _Starlight Wanderer_ made for what it hoped to be a safe port, it found itself once again staring at a large fleet of unknown vessels. An opening hail to the lead ship failed to clarify anything, as (unsurprisingly) the vessel's commander spoke a language unheard by _Wander_'s crew or computer translators. Erickson ordered what was left of her shields balanced out aft and forward, just in case.

One of the comm officers turned to another. "At least this one's pretty—that last ship we tried to talk to sounded like a lion, a tiger and a bear." As he spoke, an ethereal sound filled the bridge, reminiscent of the theme from a hit musical, "Starkiller's Travels."

Ships arriving near the Citadel automatically fell under the jurisdiction of the Citadel's Traffic Control Tower. However, authority was difficult to assert when neither side understood what the other said. The unusual shape and size of the new vessel created additional concern, as a dreadnaught with a 2-kilometer long main gun would be a formidable opponent indeed. The fact that not one, but _four_ large barrels were prominent on the ship's bow only caused greater anxiety amongst the Citadel Fleet. In the hope that the unknown interloper understood Citadel-standard protocols, two turian cruisers moved to escort it in.

As if the situation merited further shake-up, a group of vessels popped into existence behind _Wanderer_, the very same which had attacked it earlier. They resumed firing, though at the moment of onset the Star Destroyer's aft shields held off energy attacks, while physical ordinance could not be fired from the current distance.

To the Citadel Fleet, two items stuck out. First, this was a batarian strike force in clear violation of Council space. Second, weapons fire from the single dreadnaught matched no publically-available signatures, suggesting the reclusive Hegemony acquired or developed weapons since their last exchanges with Council races. Though the wedge-shaped gray vessel _appeared_ dangerous due to its sheer size (quad two-plus kilometer main guns were terrifying), it was not actively hostile. The batarians were, so the Citadel fleet moved to intercept, demanding the batarians explain themselves and stand down.

The batarian dreadnought captain couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Citadel security force, whose authority he planned on grudgingly respecting in the upcoming confrontation, ordering him to abandon an attack on a vessel which violated Hegemony sovereignty, destroyed Hegemony ships and then fled through a relay to the Citadel? Not content with this, he tried to explain the situation, but was shouted down by a turian and that obnoxious Matriarch Lidanya in a three-way conference.

"FINE!" he yelled, closing the comm channel. "They may not respect us" he intoned, "but they will respect THIS!" A fist slammed into one of the dreadnought's control panels, causing all primary batteries to pour yellow energy into the flank of _Destiny Ascension_.

Though _Starlight Wanderer_ took serious damage in the past encounter, Anna Erickson wasn't about to let unprovoked attacks slip by. Knowing only that the fleet in front was attempting to defend them from the people who'd chased her ship to this nebula, she ordered the battle-weary crew to turn about and open fire on their pursuers. The Star Destroyer's sluggish turning speed combined with a mostly forward-facing main battery left it unable to deal serious damage initially, while its own shields were worked over. Ventral shields were overwhelmed, while dorsal shields hovered at a low level.

Too late, Operations officers noted severe damage to _Wanderer_'s ventral guns from several enemy cruisers positioned beneath the ship to fire up into it. In addition to destroying the bottom-side armament, the attacks tore the armored reactor bulb away. This permitted damage to the internal reactor shield in several places. While not likely to cause an overload or explosion, it did mean harmful radiation would soon leak from the top and sides of the reactor, saturating the ship and killing the crew. At battle-ready power output levels, containment failure would render the ship uninhabitable in minutes. All screens in the ship changed to the universal sign for "radioactive," and alarms began to sound.

Even though it wasn't necessary at this point, Erickson gave the order to abandon ship. The large, square dorsal-mounted escape pods were the first to go, followed by their circular counterparts from lower in the ship's spinal structure. Pods streamed from other areas as well, since close to 60,000 individuals were trying to get off the ship. A few fighters took off from the dozen trench hangers, serving simultaneously as escape pods for their pilots and escorts to protect fellow crew. Since the batarians had more interest in firing on the Citadel fleet and destroying what was left of their stricken ship, the crew had little to worry about in terms of immediate safety. Once the batarians were convinced they'd both made their point vis-à-vis Citadel authority (leaving _Destiny Ascension _dead in space) and having utterly crippled the "intruder," they departed as quickly as they'd arrived.

* * *

Several items from the battle merited immediate attention from the Council. The batarians had practically made war against the Citadel, violating its space and causing severe damage to the fleet flagship. There was also the matter of an apparent "batarian super weapon," some kind of directed energy capable of burning through even the heaviest widely-equipped armor fitted to Fleet dreadnaughts. Finally, hundreds of pods jettisoned from the mysterious ship during the dust-up needed to be recovered. C-Sec began preparing accommodations as soon as pod launches were detected, however, once it was clear there were close to 50,000 or so survivors from the pods, logistics became an issue.

Never mind the confusion which brewed upon discovering the pods held, as far as medical scans could tell, _humans_. Previous attempts at communication had not indicated anything about the species operating the now-derelict vessel since they had been audio-only, but now, a horde of _Homo sapiens_ descended on the galaxy's power center.

An emergency meeting of the Council convened to discuss recent events.

"For all we know" started Sparatus, "this could be a stealth attempt to take over the Citadel. No one would have the heart to turn away refugees!" His last few words dripped with condescending sarcasm.

"Might I remind you" cut in Tevos, "being seen as uncaring would only make the situation worse. Parties like Terra Firma thrive on perceived 'anti-human' biases."

"Caution is still warranted" added Valern. "Remember Relay 314. Humanity has proven itself capable of surprising levels of deception. Rushing to conclusions is not a wise move, nor should we allow ourselves to be blindsided by our desire to help these people."

"Speculation will accomplish nothing. We should focus on the data." Anderson disliked the Council's ability to turn the simplest of tasks into something resembling a philosopher conference, moving from topic to topic until it finally wound to the destination. He continued "What do we know about this new ship?"

"It's big" began Tevos. "Sensor data indicates massive heat emissions despite being mostly abandoned. The ship itself is larger than any vessel in the Citadel fleet except the _Destiny Ascension_."

"The data we've recovered from survivors is of little value" continued Valern. "Physically, they are identical to the humans we already know, though this groups shows no biotic potential whatsoever. Their system of writing is unfamiliar to any Citadel species, and the samples available are small in any case. Most likely, what writing we see is simple instructions on procedures for abandoning ship, survival protocol and the like." Valern noted "Verbal communication has also been unsuccessful."

"What about the ship itself?"

"No one is allowed near that ship until we discuss the most suitable means for recovering whatever we learn there" snapped Sparatus.

David Anderson figured he meant "until I personally ensure humanity gets nothing of value" but also had the sense not to say such things.

A transmission from the Citadel Fleet interrupted: "We've just destroyed a probe of unknown origin. It emerged from the relay near the destroyed vessel. Its presence was only revealed visually—had ships not been on-station we would've never noticed it."

Scuttlebutt onboard the _Normandy_ took liberties of poking fun at Garrus for his excessive time spent calibrating the main guns. When said guns utterly destroyed a cruiser deployed to protect the Collector's base in two hits, the jokes pretty much stopped. Similarly, the Citadel's technicians took pride in ensuring the continued peak efficiency operation of the station's scanners. The sudden appearance of an object nearly the size of the station itself, however, caused mandibles to flare.

"Check those sensors again!" came the order from Chief Traffic Controller Exxallin.

Chafing under orders from a bossy turian, the mostly-human tech staff, replacements for those that died in Sovereign's attack, complied. Three recalibrations later, the sensor image had not changed. A 35-kilometer something was hurtling toward the Citadel.

The Council discussion continued much longer than Anderson would have expected, and was surprisingly civil. Only one interruption came in the form of frantic calls from Citadel Control regarding a massive ship/object approaching the station. While all this was going on, a schematic of the destroyed ship began to build itself on a nearby 3D display, reaching a level of 34% initial completeness before stopping with the message [[ NO FURTHER ANALYSIS POSSIBLE ]].


	5. Big Things

Grayson had no idea what to expect when the _Revenant_ edged closer to the blue mass pulsar. Shields were fully-powered, over science personnel protests that they could interfere with the pulsar's operation. Despite the size disparity (_Revenant_ was several times longer than the mass pulsar), the massive ship surged forward upon approaching the pulsar. The view outside was suggestive of "jumped to hyperspace but didn't quite make it" as the stretched-star effect remained until the ship decelerated. The space station first seen through the probe feed turned against a purple background, exactly as the probe's video had shown.

Alarms blared out of nowhere. A systems operator reported "Aft shields have drained by 1.5%."

Grayson swung around. "What happened?"

"Three of our escorts came through too quickly after us. We should probably move so that no more of them crash into us…"

"Well, I guess we learned something today." _What not to do with something we've never used before_ he thought. "Let's see if the acceleration listed in the shipyard pamphlet is actually possible."

Republic Core Systems possessed a good record of delivering on their promises. Thus, it came as no surprise that the ship's acceleration matched printed specification (800G). For a 35km-long behemoth, some joked it was a miracle the battleship could move at all. With a reactor output greater than some main-sequence stars, approached only by ancient Star Dreadnaughts while being surpassed by a handful of planet-sized space stations from civilizations long-since vanished, _Revenant_ expended more energy per second than some developed planets used in an entire year.

The rest of the fleet materialized behind _Revenant_. Grayson knew _someone_ had been hostile, but he also resisted the urge to immediately open fire on the first thing that came up on sensors. Having departed with three dozen _Curators_ (now minus those which foolishly crashed into the command ship), _Revenant_ and associated support vessels, he could think of no known counter to this show of force.

* * *

Herded into barracks, converted apartments, warehouses, even an unused prison block, survivors from _Starlight Wanderer_ marveled at the sight before them. A huge space station, alien species and even other humans! Wherever this place was, it seemed strange to feel at home. Except for one small issue. Neither the survivors nor their benefactors could communicate with one another beyond hand gestures or nodding/shaking of heads. None of the languages spoken by the station's inhabitants made any sense to the survivors. Writing samples had been eagerly exchanged in hopes a computer could decipher something of note. In spite of the most sophisticated translation algorithms available from Saronis Applications, no progress was forthcoming.

A great commotion arose among the station's personnel—one did not have to "be from the area" to understand the meaning of blaring sirens, flashing lights and frantic scampering. Though they were not prisoners (completely unaware of this fact at the time), the survivors on the Citadel were barred from learning more about whatever caused the frenzy. Due to logistics problems, a now-lucky few had been placed on the _Destiny Ascension_. From the asari dreadnaught's observation deck, three thousand crew members from _Wanderer_ watched in awe as a huge Republic battle fleet closed with what they guessed must be the station's defense force.

Excitement bubbled through at the prospect of a fight, until one gunner pointed out the apparent lack of energy shields among the ships encountered. "We'll be fried by our own command ship" he finished.

A lively debate broke out.

"They'll never shoot first. Even if they could stomp this entire fleet by pressing one button, they won't shoot until they're shot at."

"If they saw what was left of _Wanderer_, they may well make an exception."

"No way! Grayson's way too restrained!"

One of the doors opened to reveal three blue-purple aliens. Two wore brown leather and were obviously armed. The third had on an elegant floor-length dress of some kind.

"If I have to die, I want to be looking at _those_" (the crewman proceeded to make an obscene gesture in his crotch area) "when I go!"

"Jenkins" cut in another, "is that _all_ you think about? For all we know, you can't even _do it_ with them!"

Matriarch Teynera suppressed a sigh. She couldn't understand the language of these refugees, but she certainly comprehended the gesture. _Is it too much to ask that our race be thought of as something more than a sex symbol?_ Unfurling a large piece of paper, she gestured for the two commandoes to suspend it, midair, as it unrolled.

The chart depicted a pyramid shape divided into horizontal levels. Within each, the general shape and color of military ranks from the Alliance Navy had been drawn. Beneath the ranks, generic "male" and "female" shapes (characteristic of restroom symbols) had been added, in decreasing quantity the higher up the pyramid one went. Teynera pointed at herself, then the top of the pyramid, herself and the top of the pyramid again. Suddenly, heads started to turn as silence fell. Comprehension dawned among the remaining crew from _Wanderer_.

"It's a chart of military ranks!"

"She must be some kind of flag officer!"

"I wish OUR admirals looked like that." A kick to that particular crewman's shins was followed by a jibe from a female crewmate. "Then you'd never actually get anything done…not that you do anyway!"

Lieutenant Morrison, Operations, stepped forward as he spoke up. "Everyone be quiet." Morrison was one of those who could command a room without having to raise his voice—people immediately paid attention when he made himself heard. "Is there anyone who outranks me present here?" Not seeing any response, he stepped forward to stand in front of the chart dangling between the two asari. Indicating himself, he moved his hand to a lower area in the chart, then back to the symbols on his own chest.

_Just my luck_, fumed Teynera. _No high ranking officers_. She gestured inquiringly at the higher ranks indicated on the chart. The human in front of her only shook his head. _Okay, make do with what we have_. Pulling out a smaller piece of paper, again with pictograms, she stuck it to the hovering chart. So far, visual communication was working.

Some snickers emanated from the group of assembled former crew of the _Wanderer_.

"He's playing Pictionary with the hottie."

"Oh don't get me started—those head-things are _not_ attractive!"

"I can think of some 'pictures' I'd want."

Kick.

The latest image depicted an asari head with a book inside. From the book, arrows flowed from the head down past the shoulders, out through the fingertips and into the head of another person opposite. To add emphasis, the universal sign for mind-meld appeared above, though it was highly unlikely these foreign humans would comprehend the meaning of the symbol. Grasping the meaning, Morrison took the Matriarch's hands in his own, placed them on his temples and said "Ready" (though, she had no more clue what he was saying than before). Despite his training that any "mind-meld" could be used for espionage purposes he for some reason implicitly trusted this woman—there was nothing to lose.

"Embrace eternity."

After what seemed like hours for those assembled, the two broke apart. Morrison staggered, leaning on one of the commandos for support. Being a Matriarch, Teynera handled it better, but was still exhausted by the effort required to break through decades of Republic mental conditioning. Ironically, such mind-probes were one of the many possible torture devices against which Republic soldiers were hardened. Unable to consciously lower his barriers, Morrison's mind was a maze, a labyrinth Teynera struggled to navigate. Still, sheer strength won out, and she'd been able to learn quite a bit about Morrison, his culture, his language and where he came from. She simultaneously planted a codex's worth of information on the Citadel's primary species, including language. Now that mutual understanding had been achieved, Teynera indicated Morrison should accompany her.

Several of the assembled reacted negatively to Morrison leaving with the aliens, but a wave of his hand settled them down. The commandos rolled up their large scroll, and the group departed.

"So, I can just keep talking this way and you'll get it?" The Lieutenant was anxious to avoid any cross-species or cross-cultural misunderstandings.

"So long as you avoid colloquialisms or idioms from your language, our communication should be relatively unhindered" came the reply. "I will likewise refrain from utilizing similar elements from mine." She continued, "We must hurry. There is a potential for conflict between the fleet of ships that just arrived and the Citadel's defense force."

"I wouldn't worry too much. Grayson's pretty laid-back—you'd almost have to destroy his ship with him on it before he'd start firing."

"Yes. But if he did begin firing, you are aware the majority of our weapons are nearly useless against the type of shields your ships carry. The attackers who damaged your vessel carried highly advanced energy emitters derived from another species—we _thought_ we had denied them the ability to build advanced energy weapons, however we obviously failed."

"Well," Morrison paused a moment before continuing. "Unless your species, the asari isn't it, are in a habit of shooting first, which I doubt, then there shouldn't be a…" His own mind interrupted, as it had only now completed processing certain parts of the "database" imprinted to his brain. "Turians!" exclaimed Morrison.

"Exactly. They're not stupid, but they don't trust humans." She placed special emphasis on the last portion. "Especially humans commanding ships whose technology we are unable to fight."

Arriving at the bridge, Teynera turned to Morrison. "Right now, I am the only member of my species, of any of the Citadel species, who can understand you. And you are the sole representative of yours who can communicate with us. I will upload a translation database to the ship's network, but it will take time for everyone aboard to process all of its information. For now, speak only to me."

"What about the fleet?"

"The Council has instructed me to ask you to communicate that we, the 'races of the Citadel' to you, are not hostile. The attack on _Starlight Wanderer_ was a single rogue species who does not follow commonly-accepted law."

On the bridge, a fruitless "discussion" was occurring between Admiral Grayson and a frustrated Matriarch Lidanya. Without prompting, Morrison jumped in.

"Admiral Grayson, this is Lieutenant Morrison, Operations, _Starlight Wanderer_, reporting in. Service number-"

"I get the idea" came the response. "You're not a prisoner, we have provisions for that. So would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

* * *

Samantha Shepard figured working for Cerberus would have one benefit over government employment: less paperwork. "I could not have been more wrong about that" muttered Sam as she typed up yet another mission report ("Details of Engagement and Rationale for Destruction of Potentially Useful Technology"). Still, doing paperwork had its advantages. The only dangers here were eye strains and easily-corrected carpal tunnel. Despite her conflict with the Illusive Man (in which middle fingers were used), her crew deserved to be paid. If getting their final paychecks required slogging through a maze, she was more than happy to do it.

EDI's avatar appeared. "Shepard, I have just received a message from Counselor Anderson. It was sent highest priority, for your eyes only. I have not opened it."

Anderson's face appeared on Shepard's terminal. "Commander, I know you've just returned from the Omega-4 relay. I know you're probably not wanting to deal with another big galactic crisis, but I thought you should be aware. The following conversational transcript is classified at the top level of Council security. No one else is to know what was discussed here." Anderson's visage disappeared, replaced by a veritable wall of text.

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT OF CITADEL COUNCIL MEETING, CLASSIFIED

SPARATUS: For all we know, this could be a stealth attempt to take over the Citadel. No one would have the heart to turn away refugees!

TEVOS: Might I remind you, being seen as uncaring would only make the situation worse. Parties like Terra Firma thrive on perceived "anti-human" biases.

VALERN: Caution is still warranted. Remember Relay 314. Humanity has proven itself capable of surprising levels of deception. Rushing to conclusions is not a wise move, nor should we allow ourselves to be blindsided by our desire to help these people.

ANDERSON: Speculation will accomplish nothing. We should focus on the data. What do we know about this new ship?

TEVOS: It's big. Sensor data indicates massive heat emissions despite being mostly abandoned. The ship itself is larger than any vessel in the Citadel fleet except the _Destiny Ascension_.

VALERN: The data we've recovered from survivors is of little value. Physically, they are identical to the humans we already know, though this groups shows no biotic potential whatsoever. Their system of writing is unfamiliar to any Citadel species, and the samples available are small in any case. Most likely, what writing we see is simple instructions on procedures for abandoning ship, survival protocol and the like. Verbal communication has also been unsuccessful.

ANDERSON: What about the ship itself?

SPARATUS: No one is allowed near that ship until we discuss the most suitable means for recovering whatever we learn there.

[[ Interruption due to transmission ]]

FLEET: We've just destroyed a probe of unknown origin. It emerged from the relay near the destroyed vessel. Its presence was only revealed visually—had ships not been on-station we would've never noticed it.

ANDERSON: Does the probe match the ship?

FLEET: We think so, but, wait…

[ Alarms blare ]

…Traffic Control reports…that's impossible!

VALERN: Is there a problem?

FLEET: Well, no, Councilor, it must be a sensor error.

[ Yelling in background. The phrase "check it again" can be heard ]

FLEET: If sensors are correct, a ship just arrived. If our readings are true, then the ship is nearly the size of the Citadel—it's at least 30 kilometers in length.

SPARATUS: That's impossible. No species has the means to build ships that size, not even the geth.

FLEET: Councilor, we've triple-checked our readings. The ship is there, it's huge, and it's headed this way! We are going to try to make contact with it.

TEVOS: Is the ship displaying any overt hostility?

FLEET: No ma'am. However, it does appear similar to the vessel that was destroyed by batarians, just much, much bigger.

ANDERSON: Where are these ships coming from? Do we have any idea—

FLEET: Councilors, more ships just arrived. At least thirty, by our count. They're the same type as the ship which was attacked by batarians.

The transcript ended, and Anderson reappeared. "As of now, we are trying to communicate with these strange outsiders. We don't know where they came from, but as Councilor Valern noted, the survivors resemble humans. Medical scans verified they are identical to us, down to the genetic level. This may revolutionize our understanding of human evolution—it may even throw the Reapers into question. Not their existence, but their motivations. I'll let you know if anything else happens. Anderson out."

Anderson already had a guess as to where these people were from. The whole Council did, but that was information which could never be shared. Were the general public to get their hands on official confirmation that governments existed to control not just galaxies, but entire _groups_ of galaxies… The political consequences would very likely end the Citadel Council. He wasn't going to mention the Federated Cluster Union to Shepard just yet—as he wasn't sure she'd been briefed. Some Spectres had been, but not all.

* * *

"The Republic" began Morrison emphatically "would like to know why _Starlight Wanderer_ was destroyed. That is why Admiral Grayson and his task force have arrived here."

On the bridge of _Destiny Ascension_, a three-way conference was underway between Grayson, Teynera and Morrison. The latter acted as an interpreter for Grayson. Not sharing the mind-meld, he could not comprehend the asari language.

"We've already established you 'Citadel' races aren't hostile. I get that" began Grayson. "We don't _want_ to start a war here. But it appears your government lacks full control of its star systems."

"This is very true" responded Teynera. "We do not have authority in the Terminus Systems. Nor do we exert any level of control over Illium or Noveria. In the interest of trade, we've relaxed our interpretation of relevant laws."

"Are you trying to tell me that lax legal enforcement led to the destruction of one of my ships?"

"No. Merely stating facts. The destruction of one of your ships was committed with…"

Teynera turned to Lidanya. "We really should remove anyone from the bridge who doesn't need to know about what I will say."

Lidanya cleared the bridge, and the conversation resumed.

"As I was saying" Teynera continued, "the destruction of your ship came at the hands of a rogue race who we believe obtained very advanced technology from an entity called the Leviathan of Dis. We believed the Leviathan of Dis to be an ancient organic ship of some kind, but were unable to study it. The race responsible for attacking your vessel was also behind the disappearance of the Leviathan. We have reason to believe the technology utilized in the construction of those weapons may have come from the Leviathan."

"Let me get this straight. The one race that has a bone to pick with us are also those with the most powerful weapons."

"Yes, Admiral, but thankfully those weapons are few. From what your Lieutenant Morrison has told us, two of the batarian dreadnaughts were destroyed in the conflict with _Wanderer_. Three were left adrift, their weapons most likely recoverable but the ships themselves non-operational. One used the relay from the edges of the Terminus to arrive here and attack, though it was driven off."

"Okay, so I don't have to use this ship to sterilize the entirety of the space station."

Morrison winced at Grayson's rarely-seen macabre sense of humor showing up at this moment, in this fashion.

Blue asari eyes widened in shock. "If by sterilize you mean completely wipe the station of life, no" came the shocked response. Was this more of that "humor" humans were so fond of? It seemed to be genetic…

"I am glad that this exchange was able to happen" came the reply. Teynera breathed an internal sigh of relief. Yes, more human humor, at precisely the worst time. As usual. Humans…

Despite commanding a mountain of metal capable of subduing entire sectors on its own, Grayson detested actually having to use his ship's capabilities unless he absolutely had no other choice. His face took on a serious, solemn expression. "Know this: we do not want to fight. However, if we are attacked, we will respond with all necessary force."

Having seen what one ship was capable of, the Citadel races made it abundantly clear that they did not, in fact, want to become involved in a brawl with a vessel larger than (and likely more powerful than) the Reaper Sovereign.

The transmission ended. Anderson knew he was alone for the moment in believing Samantha Shepard's Reaper warning among Council members, but he also guessed these newcomers could be a great asset in the coming fight. Returning to his office, he commed Shepard.


	6. Deus Ex Machina

A/N: Yes, I realize this doesn't meet the official definition on TVTropes of what qualifies as a Deus Ex Machina, so I don't need to hear about it :P

Samantha Shepard was glad for the interruption on her comm indicating a secure transmission from Councilor Anderson. She hated paperwork (who didn't), but for an agent supposedly "only accountable to the Council/Illusive Man," she spent more time than she'd have liked explaining rationale for actions taken, justifying failures, or covering embarrassments in triplicate.

Anderson's weary visage appeared on Shepard's monitor, pushing mission reports behind.

"You saw that big piece of space junk on your way to the Citadel, I'm sure" started Anderson.

"How could I not?" came the reply. "We had to swerve to avoid it—it and the huge security cordon around whatever that thing is. Is there something I should know? I hate being kept in the dark."

Anderson knew revealing more information from closed-door Council sessions, especially to someone who in the public mind was associated with an extremist terror group, could cause blowback if exposed. He was relatively sure the channel was secure since EDI had apparently overridden the Illusive Man's bugging—so he took a deep breath before continuing. He also knew better than to push Shepard's buttons when she used the phrase "I hate being left in the dark." Generally speaking, anyone who did leave her "in the dark" got punched, shot, or chewed out. Clearly, none of the above would happen between fire-forged friends, but it did serve to show Shepard's irritation with the situation, which Anderson both understood and wished to minimize.

"Shepard, that big pile of metal was a ship. A ship from outside this galaxy. From what we know, this ship could take on the entire Citadel fleet by itself were it in prime fighting condition." His voice ramped up along with the significance of what he was saying. "Its shields can stop energy attacks as well as missiles or bombs. I think—"

Shepard cut him off. "What?" Thoughts raced through her mind. Such shields were _hypothetical _at best, the domain of geeky scientists and harmonics nuts. Despite the potential usefulness of such shields, militaries had dropped research into the subject for its three maddening properties—expensive, difficult to build/maintain, and requiring immense amounts of energy. In contemporary fiction, this was known as the "Three Strikes of Technological Impracticality." _Two_ list items were usually enough to reglect an item to "super weapon" status—rarely seen in-story and then only for short periods of time. Anything hitting all three was simply discarded by authors as stretching willing suspension of disbelief too far. Military policy was hardly dictated by the whims of fiction writers, but the military _was_ controlled by politicians with budgets. Budgets that were sensitive to voter complaints about "wasteful spending" on programs that would exacerbate the "star wars" state of things, breaking the fragile detente the galaxy had enjoyed until the apparent "Geth Rebellions," followed by Collector attacks on helpless colonies.

Anderson continued, "That ship's shields could shrug off the most powerful turian mass accelerators as if they were grains of sand dropped against armor plating. This schematic should make things more clear."

A warning message appeared, indicating [[ COSMIC TOP SECRET ]] and requiring a confirmation from the receiving individual that all precautions necessary for the reception of such data were in place. As the data scrolled down her terminal, the expression on Samantha's face changed from mild amusement to shock. Then to horror, and abject depression. Assuming these scans were correct (radiation from the destroyed ship's reactor might have interfered), the technology aboard this "Outsider" ship was so far beyond anything in the known galaxy that whoever possessed it could hold the entire galaxy hostage.

Its shields met every criteria for "total shielding" (as opposed to "kinetic barriers"). Blocking radiation, energy weapons, relativistic effects, physical objects, and, Shepard thought wryly, the "negative space wedgie of the week" if luck held. To feed these nearly mythical defensive screens, the reactor core had to generate immense amounts of energy—in the most literal sense, the power of a star contained in the metal of a reactor core. It was inconceivable the ship's power was all spent on shields—the schematic speculated an output of 3.14x10^25W—after all, massive bursts of energy had been seen to have been fired while shields were still operational. These energy bursts tore through kinetic-only shields as if they weren't there because, they might as well not have been! Never mind that each blast from dozens of quad turrets delivered a million terawatts (or more!) of energy to its target, melting armor, twisting superstructure and vaporizing any crew unfortunate enough to be stationed near the impact point.

Normally, a ship like this would have a weakness for someone to exploit—a poorly-shielded thermal vent, a vulnerable command deck, or poor firing arcs for its massive weapons. Maybe they would be expensive. Except, as Anderson had indicated, whoever sent this ship had something on the order of thirty more escorting a colossal behemoth battleship several times _larger_ with presumably higher strength in every area. Or perhaps they would be slow? Nope. While the vessels were cumbersome at sub-light speeds, they possessed energy projectors ("tractor beams") capable of ensnaring fleeing vessels, dragging helpless ships into perfect alignment with weapon batteries. The builders of these vessels had also taken conventional FTL travel and made a whipping boy of the fuel-consumption, heat, and sensor problems (which current galactic civilization had sidestepped through mass relays). Non-relay propelled speeds in excess of 10,000_c_ were normal, every-day travel to these people—military ships mounted even faster "hyperdrives" while humans in Shepard's galaxy could travel no faster than fifty times _c_ without the aid of a mass relay. Even the Reapers could not match the fastest Republic starships—they topped out around 11,000_c_.

One of these ships would be able to give its commander galactic influence on the level of a Citadel race from the bridge of a single vessel. A fleet would have the Citadel races cowering in terror. An entire navy's worth would make Reaper attacks preferable. Reapers…

Sam slammed her fist into her desk, followed shortly by her head. Here she was, fighting tooth and nail to get the galaxy in fighting shape against the Reapers, and some fleet from who-knows-where appears with enough firepower to send the Reapers packing. And she now had a lovely bruise on her forehead to go along with everything else. It almost wasn't fair. It was as if someone had actually found the mythical "vaults" left behind by strange precursors well beyond the borders of explored space, claims no one had verified or looked into since a few scout ships with highly experimental quantum-entangled communication devices were flung into the void toward a galaxy known as "G-3," another member of the Local Cluster (Shepard's own galaxy carried the moniker "G-6"). In instantly-arriving dots and dashes from an ancient mariner's code, fantastic tales of buried wealth, teleportation, and women (only women) capable of making the most advanced biotic look tame were logged by skeptical analysts.

Shepard remembered hearing these stories as a child. The comic books (and later video series) "Persephone's Predators" were oft-swapped discreetly under desks or via omnitools when teacher attention focused elsewhere. Feeling like a rebellious chore-avoiding, homework-hating kid again, Shepard loaded one of the old vids instead of doing "what she was supposed to do."

How these tales came about was anyone's guess—they were rumored to be "based on true stories," but that always meant some embellishment here, a changed name there, airbrushing an inconvenient individual out, and the like. A few intrepid traders made regular runs between G-3 and G-6, but that meant either one or two trips in a lifetime on massive trans-galactic supercarriers (short trip out, very lengthy journey back due to lack of mass relays at the other end) or experimenting with wormhole technology.

Such experiments were rumored to lead into dimensions with hostile life-forms; many who used the devices never reappeared. The few who survived refused to use the ships again, preferring to remain as far away from space travel as possible. Whatever these traders saw was that scary.

Amusingly, there wasn't much worth trading for in G-3 anyway—lacking a central government and coherent economic policy, G-3 was that unwanted stepchild shuttled between guardians. Most planets were borderline anarchistic, or controlled by large corporations. Some were both, and corporation-on-corporation warfare was considered completely normal despite a theoretical ban on the practice by the Local Cluster's membership in the Federated Cluster Union.

"Federated Cluster Union" spat Shepard (she hated mushy romance scenes—as one was playing out now her thoughts turned elsewhere). "More like Fluffheaded Cuckoolanders United." Briefed on the existence of multi-galactic governments upon becoming a Spectre, she found out that for all the secrecy surrounding them, there really wasn't much of a practical side to the whole concept. The FCU theoretically governed some seven "local clusters," but rarely did anything of consequence. Local Clusters were created with the intent to prevent galactic-scale warfare (after single galaxy in the A-cluster fought off a religiously-motivated, anti-technology invasion by a species in the E-cluster that had completely destroyed its own galaxy millions of years ago). _Blathering philosophers_ she thought. Since that age-old conflict, galaxies had tended to keep to themselves, mostly due to inter-galactic travel taking extreme amounts of time and/or being hideously expensive. How that happened after millions of years in which such travel was commonplace generally was attributed to some kind of technological dark age. No one but historians tended to give it much thought.

Liara T'Soni had given Sam a purple fire-gem she'd gotten from a G-3 trader years ago. It shone with what almost seemed to be an interior light—even in a pitch-black room, it glowed brightly. Trinkets, really—that's all that one could find from the few traders making the journey between G-6 and G-3. Like the submachine gun on her desk that used actual ammunition rather than thermal clips or an internal nano-shaving system. It was supposed to use incendiary rounds (with a name like "Hellfire," how could it not?) but Shepard had yet to be able to figure out how to operate it. As a result, it was used as a desk decoration and paperweight.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the holovid she'd left on.

"But Hera, that journey will take decades! Are you sure you want to go?"

"I must" replied the green-haired, asymmetrically-tattooed woman. "The crime duo of Freddy and Jason must be stopped—even if that means traveling to an unknown galaxy."

Of course, in the vids "hyperwarp" meant galaxy-to-galaxy travel took weeks, not centuries. That was science fiction for you.

* * *

Negotiations for a Status of Forces Agreement between the Trans-Galactic Republic and the Citadel Council began hours after true, mutually-understanding first contact (as opposed to previous aggressive negotiations). For one, Republic forces had no idea how to _leave_ the place they found themselves in. A second key point followed that the Citadel races had no desire to be flattened by a clearly superior force—so it was essential that order be established.

Unfortunately, aside from those two items, practically everything else stood as a point of contention. Despite attempts to keep discussions private, leaks occurred that only exacerbated the situation. An intrepid reporter by the name of Eddie Snowman managed to reveal the existence of high-level talks in the first place, which set off a chain reaction.

Once it became apparent that these "Outsiders" were both real and in possession of stupidly powerful military technology, every race with a Citadel embassy wanted to be involved. This stood in stark contrast to the usual state of affairs in which the four-race Council was trusted to decide most galactic issues. The reaction of each race followed predictable patterns: asari wanted to talk, salarians wanted information (through whatever means necessary), humans were (over)eager to meet their apparent brethren, drell (hanar too) expressed little interest as the events were far from the homeworld, elcor were content to "wait," volus ears pressed to the ground in an attempt to discern any possible economic benefits, and itchy turian trigger fingers made everyone nervous.

Turians stood deeply suspicious of the outsiders who were, for all intents and purposes, humans. Insane theories know no bounds of species, and in only a few hours wild conspiracies alleging a secret pact between the Systems Alliance and the Outsiders swept the turian-dominated portions of the extranet. Salarian spies ran headlong into reality: when your target possesses computer technology orders of magnitude more advanced, using unfamiliar interfaces, languages, operating systems, and hardware even the best hackers will get exactly nowhere. Primitive cave-dwellers would have had a better chance understanding Citadel systems, if such a ridiculous situation were ever to come to pass. As a result, half a dozen STG agents were captured—no damage done and no information extracted—by amused TGR personnel.

Given no credible threat against the Terra Nova force from the comparatively primitive weapons of the Citadel races, Grayson attempted to negotiate from a position of benevolent strength. He thus insisted on holding combined talks with all Citadel races rather than just those represented on the Council or striking individual treaties with each species.

It didn't take long for him to curse his choice.


	7. I (Immediately) Regret This Decision

The parties to the negotiation moved into a large conference room whose panoramic windows offered a sweeping view of the nebula surrounding the Citadel. Cast in the nebula's eerie glow, talks began.

Amongst all the banter, debate, shouting, and posturing, one thing stood out. The various Citadel species distrusted each other, but they were even more suspicious of the Trans-Galactic Republic's Terra Nova fleet. Partially, this was due to its sudden appearance, but it didn't take a hyperdrive core designer to figure out the majority of the distrust stemmed from the simple fact that Terra Nova could utterly destroy the Citadel's combined navies with about the effort required for Grayson to yawn.

It was mutually agreed-upon that no party to the discussions would officially comment on or acknowledge leaks. Of course, this didn't stop every single negotiator from discreetly _producing_ leaks if such selective disclosure seemed tactically advantageous, which created more chaos. None dared accuse any other party of being the cause of unwanted release of information, lest their own activities be discovered. The four Council races were represented by their Councilor (Anderson, Sparatus, Valern, Tevos), while embassy-possessing races sent a high-ranking government representative with authority to negotiate on behalf of the species.

The list of not-inviteds caused as much of a media storm, if not more, than those inside the conference. Urdnot Wrex traveled all the way from Tuchanka when word reached him that not only were new arrivals sitting on the galaxy's doorstep, but that negotiations were already underway. He and a dozen krogan soldiers set up a camp near the Krogan Monument in protest of their exclusion. Wrex couldn't help but feel slighted, especially after a period of (by krogan standards) stellar behavior in the galactic community. Confining themselves to shouting slogans, Wrex told a passing reporter (Emily Wong), took about as much fortitude as surviving the genophage.

"I want to make one thing clear" intoned the gravelly voice of Urdnot's leader. "I don't blame Shepard for this. She helped us find a way forward by believing in me, in us—and we shall overcome this injustice by behaving in exactly the opposite manner from which we are expected. I am absolutely confident she had nothing to do with our exclusion, and fought for us at every turn." (He had no knowledge of Shepard's present periphery status as related to the ongoing talks.) Wong did a double-take, but quickly composed herself as she was on-air—very few krogan were this articulate.

"There you have it" Wong concluded. "No violence from the krogan today—what's next? An honest, transparent Cerberus? This is Emily Wong, ANN."

Angry vorcha were kept at bay by a C-Sec security cordon. Battle-worn batarians, lacking in humility, vehemently proclaimed their species' dissolution of ties with the Council, made threats of war, and generally caused disturbances across the station. Of course, the Hegemony had yet to make an official comment, especially in light of the batarian super-dreadnaught attack against the TGR, so these rantings were dismissed as attempts to stir up trouble.

The only race with Council dealings to remain completely invisible in these affairs were the quarians. Due to their status as unwanted wanderers, the Flotilla decided it best to discreetly recall as many as would listen from Citadel space, in hopes of avoiding any incidents. Tali'Zorah vas Normandy flat-out refused to return, instead holing up aboard the Normandy in order to "support Shepard if she needs us again." Her status as a geth expert, combined with her heroics during the assault on the Collector base, had spawned rumors of Tali being given an unprecedented promotion to her father's old seat on the Admiralty Board. However, her stubbornness on this important matter placed that standing in jeopardy.

After many fruitless hours, it had been established that the Citadel races remained petrified by the idea of having such powerful ships in their galaxy, while the Trans-Galactic Republic didn't mean any harm. Really. No "band of brothers" emerged from the Citadel races—despite a common fear, many old wounds remained too raw with no resolutions forthcoming. Translation headaches affected all—despite Common Access Neural Deciphering Units provided by Tyriel Advanced Communications Corporation, the constant processing of half a dozen languages over a prolonged period was making everyone surly. A mutual decision to sequester themselves like jurors on a controversial case led to all parties retreating to their private suites after a twelve-hour marathon session.

Grayson regretted the decision to not just stick with the Council races. Head pounding, he turned in for the night.

* * *

The Illusive Man pored over 3D projections hovering above a hologram-generating table. These "Outsiders" and their technology offered an incredible opportunity for Cerberus and humanity. While several efforts to acquire physical pieces of the destroyed ship ("Starlight Wanderer," what a silly name!) were denied by Council patrols, thankfully without any connection linking the effort to Cerberus, the monitoring device attached to Shepard's secure terminal was providing a wealth of information. Though the damnable traitor EDI had destroyed or disabled all surveillance systems wired directly into the _Normandy SR-2_, it had not been able to detect or inhibit the quantum dot hypercompressor built into the laptop in Shepard's quarters. The technology represented a project almost as expensive as Shepard's resurrection—using research shared with no one, Cerberus created a device that could both perfectly mask its man-in-the-middle nature against Alliance anti-bugging and decrypt data with a 99.999% accuracy rating. These abilities created a significant drawback: extremely low throughput. A few gigabytes of data, standard for short transmissions, took several minutes (as opposed to fractions of a second for normal data) to send in megabyte-size chunks to a receiver aboard the Illusive Man's base in the Anadius system. Several petabytes of data, the rough size of incomplete pilfered schematics for the Outsider ship, took hours.

Shepard was still proving very useful to Cerberus without even knowing it. The Illusive Man smiled at the thought. It was deliciously ironic considering Shepard's emphatic speech about being completely done with Cerberus (but give me my crew's pay please!) after destroying the Collector base. It wasn't even really Shepard—it was more the fool Anderson's trusting of Shepard that led to this moment. Let the two of them go on thinking Shepard's ties with Cerberus ended at the deposit of final paychecks for the Collector base mission. Though he detested the thought of those who placed insufficient priority on the survival and advancement of humanity reaping the benefits of Cerberus' plans, the Illusive Man knew even the most fertile field would yield the occasional bad plant. A handful of bad plants were no justification for burning down an entire farm.

One problem would be fabricating weapons like those found on the Outsider ship without attracting too much attention. "Turbolaser" weapons required immense amounts of heatsinking material to prevent critical temperature buildup, in addition to huge lengths of superconducting wire to coil about the barrels (the sort of which was only found in geth weapons). Giant capacitors made of substances not known to current Cerberus science could take years to duplicate on a scale large enough for capital-size weapons. Providing enough energy to run these systems would require leaps in materials science and energy containment. Artificial gravity operated on principles that seemingly defied current understandings of physics as no mass effect fields were involved—though "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" he thought. Finally, constructing a vessel to mount the copied technology in could prove the greatest challenge of all. The Outsiders apparently never had overheating problems in space—their use of "heat-radiation wave-guides" apparently let them produce orders of magnitude more heat than most starships within Citadel space with zero penalty.

The Illusive Man began entering information into a console—the low hanging fruit of turbolaser technology would be harvested first, while the remainder of the data poured in.

* * *

Had Councilor Anderson known what his transmissions to Shepard were enabling, he would have regretted his decision to trust Shepard and EDI's assertions that "All Cerberus monitoring equipment aboard the _Normandy_ has been removed." As it stood, Cerberus' bug remained concealed. It would have continued transmitting information beyond the most recent Council meeting and incomplete blueprints of Outsider technology were it not for the pedestrian occurrence that plagues any computer system: hardware failure. The bug itself did not suffer problems, but the ultradense primary storage of Shepard's computer had begun to experience corruption on a system-crippling scale, interrupting her viewing of Persephone's Predators Volume 2. In a spate of form-over-function (or perhaps an attempt to keep tinkering with Cerberus hardware to a minimum), virtually no part of the machine was user-accessible or technician-replaceable, so Shepard copied what data she could save onto a new computer.

Garrus returned from a semi-productive family meeting, and, citing calibrations within the drive as a possible explanation for its failure, asked to look over the unit upon hearing of its untimely demise. Having seen Garrus's capabilities which repeatedly exceeded expected margins, Legion also offered its services toward attempting to determine why Shepard's terminal died. After all, premium components like the Delumcore Systems storage media used did not often suffer seemingly-random failure.

"You should get to bed, Shepard. It's 0200 hours" Garrus called as he and Legion disappeared toward the main battery.

"I really have been a rebellious schoolgirl," Shepard mused, realizing not only were reports undone, but it was, in fact, early the next day compared to when she'd begun her video binge. "Guess I'll take it to the end and go to bed with a pile of work undone." She flopped into bed.


	8. Trust

At 0900 hours, negotiations resumed. Maybe it was because everyone was tired yesterday, or perhaps it came from the alignment of the stars, but discussions moved much more quickly than the previous day.

"_A Status of Forces Agreement Between the Species of the Citadel and the Trans-Galactic Republic_" read the first line of the new agreement. Overt hostilities against TGR assets/personnel were prohibited—and the Citadel government gave itself power to enforce the rule even on those (like the batarians) who refused to acknowledge its jurisdiction.

When Grayson pointed out the seeming absurdity of giving oneself legal domain over those who refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of the Citadel government, the Council sheepishly replied they were trying to avoid a full-scale war. By calling any skirmishes against the batarian Hegemony "enforcement actions," it would minimize political fallout from other non-aligned parties if shooting started.

"_The phrase 'Species of the Citadel' shall refer to all races who hold signatory status on the Citadel Conventions and Treaty of Farixen, in addition to possession of an Embassy on the Citadel or Council membership."_

Now that ink was hitting paper (virtually), leaks of the proceedings took on an even greater level of importance. Urdnot Wrex became more agitated about krogan exclusion from the process, though he was repeatedly assured krogan interests would not be impacted by the treaty.

"The turians and salarians in one room, negotiating the fate of the galaxy" he spat. "You'll have to excuse me for being suspicious, since the last time this happened, my entire race ended up sterilized! I have half my clans telling me to leave now!" Wrex disappeared to find the one ally he would trust with his life. If anyone could help him, it would be Samantha Shepard. Her ability to talk her way through or out of virtually anything would come in handy, if she could be persuaded to lend her voice.

* * *

Tali buzzed Shepard's door. She knew only what the news reports said about the "Outsiders," plus what she'd been told in a message to return to the Flotilla. Even if Shepard didn't know any more than she did, Tali wanted to talk to someone.

A bleary-eyed Sam answered the door. "Were you drinking again?" teased Tali. Drunk Shepard and mission reports became somewhat of a routine joke after one disastrous mission to secure crates of supplies on the planet Daratar. A passed-out Sam Shepard was found by Tali the next morning—an entire mission report on-screen full of random gibberish as she'd fallen asleep on her computer's keyboard.

"Come in." Shepard waved Tali over to the couch, wherein Tali was forced to move an entire stack of "Persephone's Predators" vid-disks.

"You were watching this…" Tali paused. People either loved or hated the stories about those women with mythical powers—and those who loved them were very defensive should someone insult their favorite show.

"Yes, you caught me" sighed Shepard. "I got bored of these endless reports—and come to think of it, Cerberus' paychecks cleared yesterday." Facepalm. Double facepalm. "Why did I even bother doing these?"

"Old habits are hard to break" mused Tali. "Say, what do you know about these Outsiders? Their ships seem very impressive. They might even put the Normandy to shame!"

"Impressive is hardly the word I would use. More like gut-wrenchingly terrifying, nightmare-inducingly advanced, make Reapers look like children's toys."

Tali sat up straighter. If she had visible eyebrows, Shepard thought, they would have been raised as high up as possible.

"Now," Sam began. "I need you to promise me you won't share what you see with anyone. No, you can't have a copy for yourself, and please don't get drunk, then babble about what I'm about to show you to the bathroom floor."

"Shepard" came the mock-hurt reply. "quarians don't drink, we have enough body-issues as is. I've heard hangovers are nasty."

Sam manipulated the haptic display on her new computer. Too bad the Cerberus unit fizzled—it was far faster and more powerful. No dragging trying to open the massive file Anderson sent over, unlike this clunky Alliance machine.

"While we're waiting…"

EDI's avatar appeared. "Shepard, Urdnot Wrex is here to see you."

"Wrex!" Somehow, he was both terrifying and loveable, in a rouge-ish way. "Tali, let's go see what our old buddy Wrex wants." Into the elevator, a mercifully short ride with no awkward conversations about who would beat who in a fight or questions about alien immune systems.

"Shepard!" Wrex charged into the Normandy, giving Sam a hug that would have crushed anyone without cybernetic implants.

"Wrex."

"You usually wander around asking random people about things, so I assume you've heard the news."

The trio climbed back into the elevator and returned to the Captain's cabin.

"Actually" came Sam's reply as the door hissed open, "I've been doing mission reports…until I realized that since Cerberus already sent us our paychecks the reports aren't necessary anymore. Especially after I got a little _agitated_ with the Illusive Man over the destruction of the Collector base. I even procrastinated like when I was in school to avoid reports I didn't have to do! Hence staying up late watching all this." She gestured to the vid-disks strewn all about. On the floor, on her nightstand, in the bed. It was truly a varren-nest.

Thankfully, neither Wrex nor Tali cared about the state of Shepard's room.

"Anderson's sent me some information—something about extra-galactic outsiders with really powerful ships, and…"

Wrex cut her off. "Can you believe these pyjacks? They start negotiating with the Outsiders, _without the krogran!_ Just those with Citadel embassies, as if having an office on this station is the only mark of having contributed something important to this galaxy. I forget, is there any other species that has its own _monument_ on the Presidium?"

Sam made to cut in, but Wrex wasn't done. "I told them there's no way you'd support this. I assumed you'd have ripped them a new one, gone all renegade on them for being such backstabbing hypocrites. Turns out you've been holed up on your fancy starship. Can't fight the war if you never leave the barracks!"

Wrex laughed. It was a short, harsh sound that would have scared anyone who didn't actually know him into running about two star systems away.

Shepard turned toward her computer. "I'll comm Anders—"…only then did she notice the incomplete Outsider ship schematic slowly revolving onscreen. "Wrex, you weren't supposed to see that!" Sam finished defensively.

"Oh, I apologize for being invited to your cabin, then seeing absolutely everything you left laying around. Clearly my fault. What is it with human females and those hollow humped garments, anyway?"

Sam turned a very bright shade of red, pivoting quickly back to the terminal on her desk.

"I guess you can't unsee this" she began. "This is-"

"-an Outsider ship" finished Tali and Wrex in unison. "Tali! I forgot you were here!"

"Easy enough to do," came the response, hands on very prominent hips, "when you're spending more time embarrassing the commander and getting sneak peeks at secret data files."

The smirk on Tali's face was hidden by her ever-present visor, but everyone in the room knew it was there.

"Oh come now, Tali! I'm sure you know what those are for. I'm guessing-"

Wrex stopped, since he found himself speaking to the back of Tali's helmet, while being treated to a small, but distinctly audible "Hmph!" noise.

"Back on topic" cut in Sam, "Scans of the ship show it's bigger, badder, and nastier than anything in the combined Citadel navies. It's over two kilometers long, has more guns than a batarian attack cruiser, is durable enough to resist virtually every weapon we have…"

"…and there are over thirty of them" Wrex finished.

Shepard's jaw dropped as if it had been pulled to the floor.

"How much do you know?" Shepard demanded. "You seem to be finishing sentences about a topic you claim to have come to ask me about."

"Well, Shepard, I expected you to be far more involved in this than you turned out to be. Since the galaxy is at stake and all—the last time you were all over it."

Tali interjected. "You know, we did just stop _another_ invasion, storming a base controlled by freakish organic Reaper slaves. I think that counts as saving the galaxy."

"Oh, I forgot" Wrex replied. "Shepard only saves the galaxy if it involves blowing things up. Saving us from politicians, that's not her style. She'd just punch them."

Sam cracked her knuckles to go along. A slasher smile played over her lips. "I just might."

Turing the questioning on its head, she rounded on Wrex. "And what exactly were _you_ told?"

"All I got are leaks of information from the official conferences. It seems no one is in favor of spreading information around, but everyone is doing it. So, we have over thirty of these ships" (Wrex gestured at the slowly revolving hologram), "plus one that's even bigger. Their weapons can destroy pretty much anything, their shields block all fire from any weapon we have, and these big ships are as fast as a krogan biotic!"

To the uninitiated, one would think that "fast" never described the movement of krogan except describing the _lack_ of speed. Such a person would be wrong—though rare, the feared krogan biotic could virtually dance around a battlefield. All while delivering punishing blows few could hope to survive.

"How can those ships be fast?" wondered Tali. "Even the most untrained quarian engineer could tell you—"

"You quarians are good" began Wrex, "but you have nothing, absolutely nothing, on these Outsiders. I don't know how they do it. Some people think they shove waste heat into another dimension. Maybe their weapons are made of all-frictionless material. As for how FTL travel can be in use continuously for _weeks_ without overheating—nobody has any plausible theories on that yet."

"So either they know things we don't, or _e = mc^2_ doesn't apply over there" Tali finished.

"Let's look at this diagram." Shepard pulled her two friends over around the terminal. "Starting with the things that are least insane…"

* * *

"That krogan has shown remarkable levels of restraint" began Valern. "His species is usually violent. Short tempered. Easily offended."

"Would it be fair for me to claim all salarians think alike?" asked David Anderson.

"Well, no, but…"

Tevos spoke up. "We should give them the chance they deserve—the lack of force should be taken at face value as a gesture of good faith. This Urdnot Wrex is not like the krogan we are used to dealing with, so we should not treat him as if he were."

In an ironic twist, the Council members ended up doing most of the talking for their side, despite the presence of ambassadors from every species currently in possession of a Citadel embassy.

It was agreed that limited military exchanges were to be used as an initial stepping stone. The Republic would host the first, since it would alleviate fears from the tactically weaker side once it was known exactly what the Republic brought to the table technology wise.

In recognition of her service to the galaxy, Spectre Samantha Shepard was selected, along with whatever crew she desired, to represent the Citadel races in the first Exchange. Though Sparatus protested mightily, the decision of the Council ran 2-1, with Valern abstaining.

Issues surrounding large-scale linguistic transference were finally resolved using a combination of asari melding and highly miniaturized translation modules derived from Republic protocol droids. Initial asari melds granted the recipient the ability to comprehend and use languages, but stress levels on the brain caused by utilizing the new knowledge could often lead to paralyzing headaches. Rather than giving individuals entire new languages, the new method relied on teaching a person how to interface with the AR-Sentience from CyberDroid (founded by former Cybot Galactica executives millions of years ago after the first extra-galactic settlements were built). A user no longer suffered the burden of manipulating languages in his or her own thoughts, instead sending and receiving commands from the computer embedded invisibly inside the user's head.

Naturally, this led to mispronunciations and awkward pauses in conversation, but it was decided that this was preferable to fatigue brought on by pure melding.

Eventually, the learning process itself would become automated, eliminating the need for asari melders.

* * *

The Illusive Man was in a foul mood. The datastream from Shepard's terminal had ceased, and he could only conclude it was due to his quantum dot hypercompressor being detected. Accusations from the Alliance would begin soon, and Cerberus would again find itself on the wrong end of a scandal.

His only consolation was that in a relatively short period of time, Cerberus scientists had begun to pick apart the secrets of the Republic's weapons. Despite given names, the weapons were not true lasers as such weapons would hit instantly. Republic energy weapons had a noticeable lag between firing and hitting their targets.

As feared, the devices required enormous amounts of energy both to generate their destructive blasts and keep themselves from melting down. Initial estimates pegged full power test devices as being a year out, but progress remained steady. Materials for barrel construction flowed in without attracting attention, including kilometers of superconductors "reappropriated" from both Alliance and private laboratories conducting research on geth weapons.

* * *

Shepard's terminal beeped, interrupting a lively discussion regarding Outsider ship schematics. EDI intoned "Councilor Anderson wishes to speak with you. He initially requested that Tali and Wrex not be present, but given that the Council has authorized you to bring whichever crewmembers you find appropriate for the Military Exchange, it is likely the two of them will be told whatever he is about to say. Tali and Wrex may remain."

"Shepard, I am pleased to offer you, on behalf of the Council, the opportunity to be the first to establish military relations with the Outsiders. Their civilization is actually known as the Trans-Galactic Republic, or Republic for short. They have journeyed here in reaction to the destruction of the ship whose schematics I sent you. The Republic understands that most of us represented by the Council are not hostile and the action against them was taken by a rogue few."

"What exactly is the purpose of this? I doubt they're going to take me on an all-comprehensive tour and explain every bit of their apparent magic" Shepard replied.

"You've shown an uncanny ability to talk your way through tense situations in the past. Remember Corporal Toombs? Somehow, everyone came out of that alive—no one could have done it but you, Shepard."

"So, you want me to go over there and play nice?"

"Just see what you can learn. I'm sending along the formal invitation detailing when and where this meeting will take place. Anderson out."

Shutting out the videofeed, Sam turned to her crewmates. "Looks like we have about a week to prepare for this thing. It says up to ten individuals may represent the Citadel races during this exchange. Strange—I'd think some slots would be reserved for politicians or high-ranking officers…"

"At least it's not as bad as missions," Tali remarked. "You can have more than two others with you for this."


	9. Choices

Shepard's terminal beeped. An indicator showed that the message was meant for Shepard only, Council priority, and it wasn't from Anderson. It was from Sparatus.

"You should go."

"Don't you mean _I_ should go?" inquired Tali. "It's practically your catchphrase."

"No, I'm with the commander on this one" intoned Wrex. "Better not to antagonize that old turian."

Tali and Wrex showed themselves out, leaving Sam by herself.

"Shepard."

"Yes Councilor?"

"I cannot mandate the content of your shore party for this upcoming military exchange, but I strongly encourage you to be careful in your selections. Giving the wrong impression to anyone involved might have undesirable consequences."

_I bet you didn't want me on this mission_, Shepard thought. _You wanted someone who believes our only problem is the geth_.

"That is all."

Sparatus's visage vanished.

"Pick a group of representatives I like, or else your name's mud" she muttered. "Yeah, right. As if it wasn't mud with you already."

Shepard decided that if Sparatus was going to play politics, she'd play right back. Garrus would definitely be part of the detachment. Only the turian Councilor could complain about ensuring inclusion of a turian in the exchange—never mind that it would be a very specific turian who did not think highly of the Councilor. Everyone else would just see it as an interspecies gesture of goodwill.

EDI appeared. "Shepard. The platform known as Legion wishes to speak with you."

"When will my crew learn they can come talk to me? You don't have to send me an email or leave a message with EDI, I won't space you for daring to visit me in my quarters…"

EDI answered Shepard's question. "Legion inferred that as a member of your crew, it should seek to emulate others who followed the pattern you described."

"Legion, the door's unlocked!" Sam hollered.

"Legion is downstairs in the AI Core" noted EDI. "Its auditory sensors are very powerful, but it is doubtful that the sound of your voice will transmit to Legion's current location, despite your efforts. Shall I set up a comm link between your quarters and the A.I. Core?"

"Add leaving me a message, then expecting me to run all over the ship" Shepard muttered. She took off for the A.I. Core, finding both Legion and Garrus there. The remains of her old terminal were also present, though it was in more pieces than she remembered leaving it in.

"Shepard-Commander."

"You wanted to see me, Legion?"

"We have discovered a notable alteration in the remains of your computer terminal. It appears Cerberus had a monitoring device which transmitted all information stored on and received by the machine to an unknown location. When the terminal experienced a storage unit failure, resulting in no additional transmissions for a specific length of time, the device self-destructed, revealing its existence to us."

Garrus jumped in. "Looks like the Illusive Man had one more bug EDI couldn't squash. It's likely everything up to the time you handed us this terminal was sent to Cerberus. While we don't know if the bug was activated after your…ahem…choice words with the Illusive Man or if it has been active since we came on board, chances are those Outsider ship blueprints are being pored over by Cerberus engineers."

As much as could be possible for a geth, Legion raised its headplates to show intrigue, turning to Garrus. "Is this behavior normal?"

In a voice that might well be describing the weather or an exceptionally ordinary incident report, Garrus replied "What, you mean shouting" (streams of curses flowed freely), "stomping around the A.I. Core" (cybernetic enhancements led to noticeable dents in the floor), "headbutting a server rack" (several server blades detached), "screaming" (more colorful language), "throwing whatever she can get her hands—HEY!"

A piece of the broken terminal bounced off Garrus's head as EDI interjected. "Commander, your self-destructive tendencies have resulted in a slight degradation in my ability to process data. I will route tasks around the server rack through which you attempted to insert your head."

Two more minutes of incoherent rantings poured forth before Sam Shepard squatted down, hands on knees, panting as though she'd run a distance race. Small rivulets of blood mixed with her hair, wound into her eyes and dripped onto the deck.

At this point, the doorway to the A.I. Core had filled with spectators. A few crew members, an amused Wrex, a concerned Tali, and a shocked Dr. Chackwas.

A bent server panel slowly detached itself and landed on the floor with a clatter. The only sounds were Shepard's ragged breathing and the Normandy's ventilation systems.

* * *

"So we gotta show the cavemen around?" complained a crewmember aboard RNS _Revenant_.

"These are not 'cave-men' private!" barked the lieutenant. "They are to be treated with the same respect shown to your superiors—and this does not include your impressions. I recognize myself in them—and if I ever catch you undermining me again, you'll be cleaning refreshers with your tongue till you can't taste the difference 'tween shit and French fries."

Lieutenant Steele continued "You will prepare this ship as if Admiral Grayson himself were inspecting! We are the Republic Navy, not some sorry-ass JROTC—act like it!"

"How many times can you wipe grease off a targeting interface? I think he's just mad because 'limo' is not a word" hissed the disgruntled crewman.

His compatriot, also stationed in battery 1138, had no pity. "Limo is a word in common usage. That is the key—and maybe if you _washed your hands_ after eating all those Cheeseroids, you might not have so much cleaning to do!"

Though nearly a week remained prior to receiving the Citadel detachment, Grayson's ship hustled and bustled as though a fleet inspection were pending. Decks were polished, physical interfaces cleaned, boots shined, uniforms pressed. Barbers worked in a feverish overdrive. This all represented the typical sort of busywork that normally occurred prior to a bigwig's arrival. Several obscene references painted on the wings of _Raptor_ superiority fighters docked in the primary receiving hanger were hastily painted over—only because it would be complete unknowns rather than Republic brass who had once flown fighters adorned with similar paintings.

* * *

"Looks like Shepard caught the bloodrage!" laughed Wrex. "I'd expect this from Grunt, but not from a seasoned soldier."

"You've all seen what those Republic weapons do!" hissed Sam. "And now Cerberus might be building duplicates!" More pained breathing. She finally managed to stand up again, still gasping for air.

Tali's laugh seemed quite out of place, given the gravity of the situation. "Oh honestly, did you actually _read_ the schematics? If I didn't know better, I'd say these were some bad writer's fantasy ships—fast, sturdy, powerful weapons, no heat problems… The technology in these ships is incredible, and _complicated_. A dozen quarian research teams would have their hands full for _years_ if they were just analyzing without help from the people who built these things. What makes you think Cerberus will be able to do better?"

Somehow, this revelation wasn't as reassuring to her crewmates as Tali had hoped.

"Cerberus will throw money at the problem until it is solved" maintained Garrus. "Look how many billions of credits they spent resurrecting Sam here."

"What's most disturbing is the simple fact that Sam Shepard is Sam Shepard" intoned Dr. Chackwas. "No changes in personality, morals, or outlook. A _perfect_ resurrection. I fear Cerberus may be able to accomplish the same feat with Outsider weaponry."

* * *

"Another day, another fused galven coil, melted workbench, and lab full of toxic fumes" read the log. Flipping through his scientists' notes, Cerberus's one-man board of directors found himself disappointed, yet confident. Despite expending significant resources to conduct experiments over and over and over again with only slight variations, the Illusive Man understood the scientific process. He would not berate his scientists for doing exactly as he asked: figure out how these _Wunderwaffen_ work.

It might be beneficial, he thought, to speed of experiments on husks. Though the Citadel Council chose to dismiss the Reaper threat, Cerberus as an organization was girding for it. Husks showed remarkable levels of toughness against debilitating heat and radiation—something that might be useful to integrate into Cerberus troops should these "Republic" weapons prove impossible to build without side-effects dangerous to normal humans.

Experiments had been going on for less than two weeks, but round-the-clock work with several teams had advanced from explosions (and death) to their current level.

"Very good" escaped his lips as he closed the file.

* * *

Other than Shepard's outburst, the only notable commotion on the Normandy SR-2 came from Sam's hamster, which somehow got loose _again_ and was running all over the ship. Carrying crates of weapons, Alliance specialist James Vega nearly tripped over the squeaking space rodent.

Vega had been attached to the Normandy after Shepard's departure from Cerberus. Though Spectres took orders from no one, Anderson had asked it as a favor to keep an Alliance military representative on board. Seeing as James was likeable enough, feeding the crew his _abuela's huevos rancheros_ in the morning, Sam saw no reason not to add the seasoned soldier to her wandering badass circus.

"And speaking of adding" she thought aloud, "who should I bring with me to represent the Citadel races to the Republic?"

To prevent intrusions of personal feelings, Sam compiled a list of her entire squad in a table with "pros" and "cons" for each individual.

Sweeping the SMG out of the way (it said "M—LI-AN" in faded letters on its side), she started going over her list. Even without paper, it was possible (and a common occurrence) to have a desk covered in clutter. Viewing the situation objectively, there were no "bad" choices, only "better options." For example, Kasumi Goto knew hacking inside and out, but Legion was a walking computer without the tendency to "liberate" items of interest. Tali would be best able to interpret the Republic's strange technology. Since it was known Cerberus had intercepted at least some information, having Miranda around to predict how to handle the situation would be useful. Wrex wanted to see the big guns, and his presence would probably help convince skeptical krogan that the Republic was not in league against the krogan race. Finally, Ashley Williams would lend a dedicated soldier's ear.

She knew there was a political risk from not including any asari representatives, however, her resident asari was completely uninterested in such things (as the Shadow Broker should be). Plus, Liara had departed back to her "home" on Hagalaz to "chase down some leads."

Shepard relayed her decisions to the appropriate authorities so the Republic would know who/what to expect. Detailed bio-scans of each individual were uploaded to the Republic's network, mainly for medical analysis to ensure precautions for decontamination of the non-humans.

For the remainder of the week, Sam released her crew to relax after a brutal mission.

She even elected to undertake the rarest of events (for Sam "Mission First" Shepard, anyway): hosting a social event. Given the size of her crew, she pulled a few strings to rent out the entire Dark Star.

* * *

Today was the day. Final arrangements were made. Medical personnel in full decontamination gear awaited the arrival of the Citadel Council's representatives. It had already been established that no dangerous communicable diseases were carried by the Citadel non-humans, however many of the representatives in the exchange party were, in fact, human.

The main hanger aboard _Revenant_ was equipped with a special "hanger-in-a-hanger" that would hold the incoming ship. Crafted from large cargo containers, it was jury-rigged with several decontamination agents, an airlock, and a communication system.

"Everything is ready" thought Grayson upon receiving word the final reception preparations were complete. "Let us hope this goes well."


	10. Inferior

A/N: (Don't read if you dislike long lorebabble/fanon/math). The size of the Normandy SR-2 was never stated in any official source that I can find. I've found fans claiming the length to be anywhere from 100m to 384m, but nothing from BioWare. Hence, I did a little guessing of my own. It is established in Star Wars canon that the Nebulon-B frigate is 300 meters in length. Furthermore, the Wookiepedia entry for "Redemption" (Rebel medical frigate) contains an image showing the relative size of a distinct area of the frigate relative to the people inside. Assuming this photo is accurate, which I will considering it is from a copyrighted LucasArts source, the size of a person can be extrapolated. The tallest person in the photo (Luke Skywalker) has a canon height of 1.72m, approximately two-thirds the height of the window. Therefore, the windows is 2.6m in height.

Assuming the scale of the Normandy SR-2's cockpit as shown in playable parts of the game (when Shepard can interact with Joker, EDI and the shutter controls) is correct relative to the people inside, further estimates/guesses can be made. Shepard can stand almost at the front of the ship without banging her head. In my head, FemShep is probably 5'10" at most (1.78m). Scaling an image of the Redemption from the side over an image of the Normandy SR2 from the same side lets me size up the Redemptions' surgical suite window vs. the Normandy's cockpit.

Overall, yes, I "eyeballed it" (didn't measure pixels until the very end). Normandy SR-2 is 1951px while the Nebulon-B is 3232px. That works out to be 181m for the SR-2.

* * *

_Normandy SR-2_ was big, for a frigate, at 181m long. However, she was dwarfed by _Curator_-class cruisers, wedge-shaped death machines over two kilometers from stem to stern. About the size of a Reaper, Shepard mused—a topic Anderson had not specifically discouraged her from broaching with these newcomers. And then there was _Revenant_, currently filling her entire forward vision as _Normandy_ approached it. If there were an award given for the most singularly-over-the-top, excessive and completely (in Shepard's view) impractical starship, _Revenant_ would have walked away with it.

Still, learning more about the civilization that built such behemoths would be well worth the effort.

Saying the ship was big, she thought, would be the equivalent to positing krogran blood-rage resulted in a slight increase in tendencies toward aggressive behavior.

Dubbed "war porn" by detractors in the Republic (exactly what purpose did such a ship have in a "civilization of exploration?"), the 35,000m _Revenant_ represented the pinnacle of Republic engineering. Due to its size, it was visible at quite a distance, leaving the impression of crawling towards it as it slowly "grew" to block out everything else as the gap between the _Normandy_ and _Revenant_ shrank.

A huge dorsal hanger, itself over 2,000m, opened to accommodate _Normandy_. Thankfully, Revenant's weapons had never been used against the Citadel races. It would have been a one-sided slaughter if they had.

"Hell," she muttered, "that ship is close to the size of the Citadel itself."

Joker opened a communication line with the imposing vessel.

"Normandy SR-2 requesting clearance for docking."

The reply was curt and professional: "Normandy, proceed to the dorsal hanger. Revenant Control out."

Shepard breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to implantable neural-offload units, the language barrier had been surmounted. Mistrust remained, especially due to the destruction of the _Starlight Wanderer_, but the whole purpose of this trip was to _reduce_ those negative feelings.

Joker couldn't resist a snark opportunity: "At least the main hanger's obvious. I mean, it's not like there could be a thousand other docking bays on that thing…" He spread his arms apart, then stabbed wildly with both index fingers.

Sam normally didn't have a problem with Joker's, well, joking, but this was different.

"Joker, this is serious. If that ship so much as sneezes on us, we're dead. Try not to piss them off, okay?"

"Yeah, they're telepathic and know what we're saying about them when the comm is closed!"

Sam's reply was a light slap to the shoulder. "You know what I mean." Sam turned and left.

The comm-board lit up, so Joker put the message through. The same voice came over the comm. "Please be advised: our automated docking systems will handle the approach from here. Cut your engines and brace for tractor-beam activation."

Joker had no idea what a "tractor beam" was, but he understood "cut engines." A few motions and the _Normandy_'s engines cycled to a stop. A few moments later, a blue glow surrounded the bridge windows, and indeed the entire ship. There was a slight bump, after which _Normandy'_s forward speed just about doubled. A great gray bulk whizzed past the forward viewports, upon which many protrusions were visible. Many appeared to be weapons of some kind. The _Normandy_ was docked at the Citadel during what was already being called the "First Contact Skirmish," so none of its crew had seen the weapons of the "Outsiders" in action.

Not called the best pilot in the fleet for nothing, Joker's peripheral vision caught something. A piece of twisted metal drifted lazily into the path between _Normandy_ and the hanger she was to be berthed in. Before he could react, four pulses of red light appeared from one of the many turret constructs on the _Revenant_'s surface. Three more quad-bursts and the debris was just gone. Vaporized.

Abruptly, _Normandy_ halted, slowly swinging on her z-axis to match the orientation of her new host ship. Much more deliberately, the motion resumed. Although it was along the same axis as before, Joker had the distinct feeling of flying backward. His suspicions were confirmed visually as the _Normandy_'s bow now pointed toward the bow of _Revenant_. The journey continued, now back-diagonal-down. The sides of the hanger appeared, growing higher and higher as the frigate was reeled in. A few bumps later, the glow faded as the _Normandy_ settled into what seemed to be a box inside the hanger.

"The _Revenant'_s computer reports docking cycle complete" intoned EDI.

"Wait. So they docked us in a hanger, then put us in a box? What is going on?" Joker's confused voice filled the bridge.

"Due to concerns about possible cross-species contamination, this ship has been placed in a special decontamination chamber" EDI responded. "The ship will be bathed in several frequencies of ultraviolet light, in addition to liquid decontaminants."

Now that he thought about it, the whole wet process resembled the ship-washing facilities on the Citadel. Except this time, the goal wasn't removing dirt, but rather bacteria, viruses and any other nasties present on the outer hull.

"Weird" Joker muttered.

The process took about five minutes.

EDI spoke up again, this time over the ship's address system, "A shore party representing the Citadel Council may now disembark from the SSV Normandy SR-2, under the condition all weapons are left on board. All representatives will be subject to decontamination."

Having changed into a more formal uniform, rather than casual clothing, Sam Shepard appeared at the airlock, with six other team members in tow.

"Seeing as this isn't a combat mission, I'm going to take six people with me." After all, the major reason for three-person squads on assignments was due to limitations on combat-management UIs—current interface designs were limited to three persons.

Garrus chuckled. "Wouldn't it be nice to take more than two other people with you during _combat_?"

"Well, I don't see you designing new combat-management software" Shepard teased. "The last time I went out with an 'upgraded' CMS, I got shot in the head because the interface blocked the view of the mercs attacking us."

Sam Shepard, Garrus, Miranda, Tali, Legion, Wrex, and Ashley stepped into the airlock. Once it had cycled, they stepped into a long hallway that led across the hanger to one side. The hallway continued through the door of what appeared to be a tram station. The double doors finally slid open to reveal doctors in sealed suits escorted by blue-armored soldiers inside a tram car.

The lead doctor spoke. "I apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am, but anti-contamination protocols require your compatriots to undergo decontamination before being allowed out onto the ship."

"It's the reverse of visiting the Flotilla" commented Miranda.

Tali turned to Garrus. "If you make a single comment about my immune system…"

"Hey!" Garrus' mandibles flared. "I didn't say anything!"

Shepard elbowed Garrus. "You were going to."

"Behave yourselves, now." Wrex couldn't resist. "Can't take you young whippersnappers anywhere!"

The party stepped into the tram. Unlike the achingly slow people-mover Shepard faced when dealing with Project Overlord, this one moved at a reasonable pace. It had to—the map on the far wall showed the journey covered 6.8km from the hanger to Medical.

Tali's curiosity finally got the better of her. "How fast do these trams run? How big is this ship?"

A soldier stepped forward, a Lieutenant's bars on his chest. He eyed Wrex warily before responding. "Revenant" he began, "is 35 kilometers long from the tip of the bow to the very end of the stern fantail. The trams don't run end-to-end, there's about a kilometer at each end not served by the main tram system."

Tali cut in, unable to resist asking every question that came through her mind. "How do you build such large ships? How is it powered? How…"

The LT cut her off. "Do you want an answer to your first question, or do you actually think I'll remember all of those?" He took a breath before continuing. "As for your other questions, you'll get the full tour later. Returning to the tram system, most trams run from 150kph to 300kph, depending on where you're coming from and where you're going to. This tram will reach speeds of 175kph, so the trip will last about two and a half minutes. The absolute fastest tram, the 'Greased Chute,' as we call it, is express from one end of this battleship to the other. Runs at 1250kph. Only ever serves the ends, has its own track, hell it has its own level."

Shepard, Garrus and Miranda didn't realize they were staring at the LT with their mouths open. Wrex maintained composure, not looking the least bit impressed.

"You guys look like new recruits after we tell them that. Thing is, most people don't use the 'Greased Chute.' Too impractical. Awesome, but unreasonable for everyday travel. Still, it does get you from the bow to the stern in less than a minute forty-five."

If he expected the trio to look any less flabbergasted after his latest statement, the soldier was mistaken. If anything, eyes goggled more and jaws gaped even wider.

"You might want to close your mouths before you get to Medical. Unless you want the docs to use old-fashioned tongue-depressors on you. Here we are! Medical!"

The tram slowed to a stop. The doctors turned to their escorts. "We'll take it from here." The lieutenant saluted, ushered the non-soldier passengers from the tram, and closed the doors.

_We waste more time answering questions like that… If they built ships smaller, we might not use as much time explaining how fast this is or how big that is. Oh well. Just doing my job._ "On to more important things that don't involve being a tour guide" he muttered, as the tram zipped away.

The decontamination process didn't take very long. With the exchange of information between the Citadel races and the Republic (or "Outsiders" as they were called amongst some Citadel inhabitants), the special requirements of dextro-protein species (in addition to quarians' immune systems) had already been accounted for. The only remaining matter was ensuring no disease hid in the bodies of these new (to the Republic) species. Less than an hour later with nary a trace of suspicious microbes found, Shepard & Co. were cleared to wander the ship, within bounds of security clearance. Another soldier gestured for Shepard and her party to follow.

"As part of this exchange" she began, "you've been invited to meet with the Admiral of this ship. Please come with me."

Another uneventful ride later, this time going up rather than sideways, Shepard stepped of the elevator (or "turbolift" as the soldier called it) into a large conference room whose windows offered a stunning view of space.

Miranda turned to the rest of the party. "I'd hate to imagine what it would be like walking around this thing."

"At least I'd live to tell about it" said Wrex. "If it takes a century or two to walk the whole ship, I'll be no worse for the wear!"

Collective groans.

Admiral Grayson and his attaché appeared behind Miranda. "We are going to have to swear these discussions to secrecy, for now—to prevent unscrupulous rumors or misunderstandings. Somewhat ironic given the purpose of these talks is to build trust."

"As long as no one is being sterilized today, I'm fine with it."

"Wrex…" Shepard was in no mood for games.

"Shepard."

She lowered her voice to a whisper. "These people don't even know about the genophage. It wasn't included in medical documentation we sent over."

"It also only physically manifests itself in females!" he hissed. "Nothing they'd find poking me would let them onto it without something to compare it with!"

Shepard turned back to the admiral saluted. "Understood, Admiral." Grayson motioned for the _Normandy_ shore party to follow him into a large conference room. An oblong table surrounded by an array of chairs dominated the chamber, while large panels permitted a stunning view of space out over _Revenant_'s bow.

Grayson continued, "Please, be seated."

Shepard and her shore party took seats at the conference table, except for Wrex who (again) remained contrary by standing lazily off to one side.

"Your leadership knows why we are here—exploration. I am unsure why all communications cannot be handled through official channels, but given Councilor Anderson's description of events, it appears not everything is as the Council as a whole body says."

Shepard had to restrain herself, since what she really felt like saying ran something along the lines of "Those blind, politically-obsessed fools are ignoring the single greatest threat to galactic security which has ever existed." Instead, she handed over a hastily-translated and converted datapad with all information she had gathered about the Reapers over the course of many missions. "Sir, this information may be of relevance to you, especially if your force plans to remain in our galaxy for any extended period of time."

Grayson tossed the datapad onto the conference table. "I'll look at it later—don't you want to see all the toys?"

Again, Sam Shepard forced herself to remain calm. _He's not a member of the Council, he didn't say he doesn't believe you—he just hasn't looked at it yet_, she thought. Besides, the thought of some super-powerful outsiders helping the Council repel a threat the Council didn't even acknowledge the existence of was a smidge far-fetched.

Speaking of firepower, Grayson motioned the party onto the bridge, past some very thick blast doors. "Here's where we coordinate the ship's weapons—all 3,300 of them."

Shepard and her shore party stared. "Now that's what I like to hear! Explosions!" Overly-excitable Wrex, as usual, when things went boom. Shepard sent him a look. He calmed down, slightly. Grayson's attaché twitched uncomfortably.

"I guess I'd better get used that, huh?" came the almost-too-cheery reply. "And those are just the larger weapons. We have tens of thousands of smaller weapons meant to shoot down fightercraft and attack smaller ships. This is a 'galactic superiority ship'—one in a class of four, actually."

"_Four?_" came an incredulous Miranda. "A dreadnaught costs billions of credits—and your government builds four…ships…(she didn't think that word sufficed, but failed to think of another) the size of the Citadel?"

"I like these people! No doing things halfway!" The krogan's boisterous manner might have annoyed some people—but Grayson took it in stride.

Grayson laughed again. "You should see some of our history books! Supposedly, an ancient civilization once built a spherical space station 900 kilometers in diameter, _just because they could_." At this, even the krogan's mouth headed toward the floor in amazement.

The usual pause in the conversation to accommodate slack-jawed reactions from the Citadel shore party stretched longer than before.

"_Revenant_, _Ultimatum_, _Bellatrix_, and _Finality._ Four very expensive, but very powerful warships built by a society whose stated goal is peaceful exploration and development." He paused, completely aware of the blatantly obvious contradiction between words and deeds. "Beats me too, I just run the ship."

Grayson continued on about ancient wars, mythical powers from a so-called "Force" and the laser-swords that went with it. He stopped.

"You know, it may make more sense if some of the history of the Republic is explained."

He led them off the bridge into yet another room.

"I'm almost starting to need a map" whispered Garrus.

"It's only been three places" teased Tali. "You'd get totally lost on the Flotilla."

"Three places, and six kilometers of tram, elevators that go up, sideways, and who knows what other direction…"

A large holographic generator turned the new room into an immersive experience—"Though, do stand still, we haven't figured out how to permit movement inside these simulations yet." The lights went out.


	11. There and Back Again

A voice began narrating, filling the room with a firm yet comforting sound. Somehow, it sounded exactly as Shepard expected a voice-over for a documentary to sound—as if there existed a whole group of people whose sole purpose in life was to narrate documentaries.

_It was long ago accepted that the history of modern civilization has become so lengthy that much of what transpired in earlier years has passed into legend. This is our retelling of it, as best we know._

The voice changed to a serious tone whose words came at high speed—twice as fast as the previous speaker. _All legally required citations may be found in Appendix C_.

Back to the original narrator.

_At some point a long time ago, intelligent life-forms gained the ability to travel faster than the speed of light. This opened new possibilities for commerce, colonization, and war in galaxies far, far away. Each species realized that they were not alone in the vastness of space._

A timeline of events flashed by too quickly for anyone to see what each hologram represented. Why did documentary authors do such things? Just to show a lot of things had happened? Legion was the only one to capture every moment with his machine senses.

_Many governments rose and fell. Some lasted thousands of years, others lasted only a few decades. What was believed to be our galaxy of origin was invaded by hostile forces from far beyond our local cluster. As a result, some later government launched ships intended to colonize barren galaxies, and establish ties with those whose civilizations shared our values. This is believed to be the reason for the Trans-Galactic Republic's existence (though, in "cluster-speak" we are "Cluster E"). _

_A tendency toward building larger-than-necessary ships continued, even if they weren't meant for war. Most of the time, these vessels were intended to maximize trading profit—freighters the size of warships from eras long past._

"Oh, so that's where they got the start building huge ships" mused Tali, as an image of a kilometers-long vessel appeared, only for it to rocket away before the image changed. A gravelly voice intoned "What, so they're going to talk about huge ships and giant lasers, but not show them?"

Cue Shepard look. Silence.

_Stories from outer rim territories speak of people with unusual abilities, but are mostly heard in spaceport cantinas and are thus not considered reliable sources for historical publications. History discusses the possibilities of nearly-supernatural powers, however, no such individuals have been officially catalogued for millions of years._

Grayson paused the holovid. "For some reason, the people who write these assume everyone paid attention in history class. And majored in History. And hold a History PhD with a concentration in Inter-Galactic Anthropology. They leave out half of the important facts."

Shepard sighed, loudly enough that everyone in this section of the ship probably heard her. She did agree with Wrex on one thing: they came for the explosions, and maybe to try to alert these newcomers about Reapers, not a rerun of the classes she'd barely passed years ago.

"Yeah, I hate it too—but a lot of things will make more sense if I explain. Shall I continue?"

The tone was that of daring everyone in the room to say no, but simultaneously giving the impression that saying yes would lead to an interesting story.

"Sure, why not" came Tali's voice.

"There are seven clusters with the very imaginative designations A through G. The Federated Cluster Union…"

Shepard cut in. "Wait, you're part of that too?"

"Imagine that" came the jovial reply. "The FCU is so useless that two of its own members don't recognize each other!"

Grayson dismissed the documentary and pulled up a star map. "Computer, get position."

The map zoomed out, over, and depicted a blinking green dot in a galaxy labeled "G-6," but placed a large asterisk next to the readout. "Warning: Position may be off by +/- 100 parsecs due to extreme distance from home operating environment."

This warning was ignored. As it turned out, the warning wasn't needed—the computer's initial position calculation was correct down to a few light-years.

All boredom surrounding history immediately evaporated.

"How did you get here?" inquired Tali. "Even your ships aren't fast enough to cover millions of light years quickly!"

"Those big silver-blue things…"

"…mass relays…"

"There's one in our galaxy, tucked in a corner" finished Grayson.

"Using it could open new trade routes" mused Garrus.

"Or let plagues spread from one galaxy to another" muttered Ashley. Wrex turned. "I mean Reapers."

"How many?" cut in Shepard. "We have a whole network of them here."

"This was the only one that drew any attention" replied Grayson. "It's in an out-of-the-way system that sees virtually no traffic. We had no idea what it was for until it 'woke up' and started shooting whatever traveled near it to what turned out to be this galaxy. There are several more, in fact, they've been appearing with some regularity from nowhere, but until recently we've just ignored them."

"So you never meant to come here" came Miranda's voice.

"No, we really had no intention of 'leaving the front porch,' so to speak. But the disappearance of ships when they approached these 'relays' ended up meriting investigation."

"But mass relays don't just shoot ships wherever, at least not without being given commands by the ship's computer" pointed out Tali.

"Trust me, these do" intoned the admiral. "Being near them was enough—even probes set them off!"

"This is an interesting phenomenon" intoned Legion. "Organics often exhibit this behavior—in which determination that a previously unknown individual also belongs to a shared group promotes cooperation. This can occur without knowledge of the other party's motives, having a common group is sufficient to allay all suspicions without investigation."

"In other words, Legion's giving us crap for being nice" retorted Ashley.

"Sometimes, one hand's for shaking while the other puts a knife in your back" hinted Wrex darkly.

"I don't mean to be rude, but, who are you?" Grayson turned to the large, reptilian(?) creature standing before him.

"Urdnot Wrex of Tuchanka." Wrex realized his distrust might be causing more harm than good, even if it was warranted after what happened to the krogan. Demonstrating the skills that made him a leader, he decided to be more diplomatic.

"Tuchanka? Never heard of it."

Wrex's tone returned to neutral. "It's a planet in, what'd you call our galaxy? G-6? Yeah, it's my homeworld."

Grayson had been in enough wars to know what losing a planet did to people. "Is something on your mind?"

"That'd be putting it mildly." He turned to Shepard. "Can I just spit it out?"

"On the condition that you keep it civil, yes" replied his commanding officer.

"A long time ago my people did some things others didn't like. We're fast breeders—so these others decided to put an end to our numbers. Thus, most pregnancies aren't viable and many of our children are stillborn."

"So they used a bioweapon against you?" Grayson knew the horrors of war, but biological weapons had been banned for so long that the prospect of using them shocked him.

"In a manner of speaking. It's a genetic weapon—it changes every cell in the body. I don't think any krogan without the defect exists."

"There…was a reason" Garrus was hesitant. "The krogan were crowding out other species—they kept saying 'one more planet' but then they'd take four."

"So that makes genocide okay? I thought I knew you, _Vakarian_." The last word was ejected with venom Shepard hadn't ever heard before.

"And I thought I knew you" hissed Garrus. His voice rose with each subsequent word. "You're the reason the krogan haven't reverted back to taking over entire star systems. You're the reason the rest of the galaxy is giving the krogan another chance. Explaining why something happened doesn't mean I agree with it."

Wrex visibly relaxed. Again, he'd gotten an itch under his armor and scratched it in a less-than-optimal manner.

"The genophage scenario demonstrates a noteworthy lesson in cause and effect" cut in Legion. "While the genophage was intended to reduce violence from the krogan, the knowledge that they are the last of their kind drives many of the remaining krogan to display more aggression than before."

Tali spoke up. "As odd as it is for me to find myself agreeing with Legion…"

Shepard stepped in with her "no-nonsense" voice. "Okay, summary time. The krogan were hurt badly in the past, and they are suspicious of others in the present, regardless of whose fault it was or whether or not what was done can be justified. That's why Wrex has been so gruff with you, Admiral. I apologize if this misunderstanding has caused you discomfort."

_Wow, do I really know how to speak politician?_ She felt as though her mouth had vomited out something suited for a starship's waste tank.

Grayson raised his hands in front of him and waved them back and forth in a "Whoa, stop!" gesture. "We aren't here to take sides or get involved in old conflicts. Would anyone object to resuming our discussion of Republic history?" He wanted to get off this topic as quickly as possible. Wrex the krogan looked like he could probably tear the ship apart.

Everyone fell silent, which Grayson took as an invitation to continue.

"The Trans-Galactic Republic covers ten galaxies that are located improbably close together. Several are large—including the one I'm from—others are much smaller. As part of the Federated Cluster Union, on paper we're galactic neighbors of sorts—though, distant."

He motioned for everyone to follow yet again.

"Would you care to see what you came here for?"


	12. In Personam

Cut off one head, and three more shall take its place. So said a Greek myth about the hydra creature—but it could easily apply to some of the mega-corporations running amok on Pandora. Despite the death of "Handsome" Jack, CEO of Hyperion, the corporation had become even more aggressive in its efforts to monopolize all technology found on Pandora.

Vice President Jeffrey Blake was ousted from the office of Interim CEO in what newscasters called a brazen coup de tat. The faction behind his removal was dubbed "Jackolytes"—those who believed Hyperion should take on a quasi-governmental role by utterly eviscerating competition in line with Handsome Jack's vision of "Six Galaxies, One Hyperion."

Of course, all-out corporate warfare technically merited investigation by the Federated Cluster Union with business-crushing penalties for violators. In practice, the Federated Cluster Union demonstrated to the extreme limits of governments spanning many galaxies. Representation became highly indirect, with star systems (or even groups of star systems) represented by Senators (or those of similar name), each galaxy represented by its head of state in local cluster councils, and the head of the local council serving on the board of the Federated Cluster Union. Amalgamating interests to this degree more often than not led to internal conflicts weakening what little standing inter-galactic authorities were supposed to hold.

Having discreetly swept up most of the remains of Atlas Corporation (which had become bankrupt after betting all its money on Pandoran development), Hyperion stood in a position of relative strength. Dahl, reliable but unimaginative, lacked the capital to go head-to-head with Hyperion after its own draining Pandora excursion. Maliwan's business model, which focused on heavy R&D into various elemental technologies, was unattractive. "Too much development, not enough conquering," said Handsome Jack. Jakobs possessed many valuable assets, but family politics made the idea of an acquisition nearly impossible, as shares were distributed among many feuding elements with bad blood stretching back generations. Tediore? "Yeah, let's stop eating steak and downgrade to steamed burgers! What a great idea!" *Gunshot*

That left TORGUE ("I'LL NEVER SELL MY COMPANY TO YOU MOTHERF*CKERS! MEENENENMEENENEMEENENEMEEEEOW!") and Vladof. As obnoxious as Torgue was, he certainly knew how to corner his market. Vladof…what to say about Vladof? No one could say who controlled Vladof—those who tried to find out ended up dead, with their heads mounted on pikes as "capitalist pigs."

Hyperion had its work cut out for it.

* * *

Some time later, Shepard & Co. returned to the original conference room near the _Revenant'_s bridge where the whole adventure began. They'd toured a turbolaser battery (including walking around inside one of the massive turrets), a shield generator, two hanger bays, and got a small taste of the ship's quasi-civilian appointments. On the way back, the tour group stopped at a power coupling.

"Sure seems nicer than any Alliance commissaries or base exchanges I've ever seen" groused Ashley.

"The human Systems Alliance does not build ships to these specifications" noted Legion. "Nor does it deem many of these products to be necessary for its military population."

"No shit, Legion" snapped Ashley. Miranda looked ready to say something about the superiority of Cerberus appointments, but a Shepard glare kept her mouth shut.

Garrus got in a dig of his own. "Your ships don't travel at tens of thousands of times the speed of light, so why would you expect them to have steak?"

"You're forgetting about the big guns" drawled Wrex. "The ones that could probably melt a Reaper. These guns are like Kalros compared to regular thresher maws."

"Oh God, don't make me remember that" replied Shepard. _What's Kalros?_ Realizing he meant something other than the maw killed during Grunt's Rite of Passage, she spluttered "Wait, those things grow **bigger**?"

"Of course" came the reply, as if Shepard's question were as obvious as asking if krogan suffered heightened aggression due to bloodrage. "Usually no one who sees Kalros lives to tell the tale, though."

Grayson sat off to the side, letting his guests converse about this and that—which continued for a good twenty standard minutes. Finally, the discussion wound back to the original topic.

"Seeing all these incredible machines in the flesh is even more frightening than the blueprints."

Shepard turned to the rest of her party. "If Cerberus manages to copy anything, the galaxy could be in a lot of trouble."

"I'm really not sure what you're so worried about" replied Tali. "It will take them years to duplicate even a fraction, like trying to build a rocket engine with sticks."

"Perhaps if I show you exactly what kind of technological leaps are required to get from your current standing to ours, your fears can finally be put to rest" Grayson interjected. "Weapon Specialist Toral Duras will explain the situation."

A hologram of a human male appeared above the center of the conference table. "We've received the specifications of your offensive systems" he began, with an air of smug superiority, suggestive of _Why am I even bothering to explain calculus to cavemen?_ "The yield on your most powerful weapon is in the range of kilotons of explosive—the main cannon on a dreadnaught-type vessel."

The hologram of Duras shrank, and a blocky, low-detail model of _SSV Kilimanjaro_ appeared. A red line traced the length of its main gun. A yellow dot appeared at the back of the dreadnaught model as the image simultaneously zoomed out. The dot began to blink and move forward, while the scene continued widening to show a _Curator_-class Star Destroyer some distance away. The dot exited _Kilimanjaro_'s main gun, zipped across virtual space and struck the Star Destroyer's shields. No effect was shown.

Several red blasts appeared from an undefined point on the simplified _Curator_ model, traveling the distance between _Curator_ and _Kilimanjaro_ in a few seconds, intersecting with the middle of the Alliance dreadnaught. Additional weapons fire appeared, and the _SSV Kilimanjaro_ model broke cleanly in half before "exploding" and disappearing.

Ashley Williams was not fond of the laser lightshow being put on by the hosts. "We get it. Your ships can snap ours in half. What does this have to do with Cerberus?"

"If you would be patient" (the haughty voice of Duras returned, along with his hologram), "you'd understand. The weapons on a Republic cruiser are finely calibrated bolt-casters that project supercharged matter from inside the turret to the hull of a target. Many processes are involved—I will not bore you with the details, nor expect you to understand them" (eyeroll from Garrus and Tali), "but a hefty amount of energy is required."

The image changed again, shrinking Duras off into a corner and returning the Star Destroyer to view. A single star appeared, surrounded by blinking red highlighting. The Star Destroyer was clearly meant to be within the confines of a solar system. The ship rapidly moved toward the star, until its orbit became unfathomably (and unrealistically) close. From its color, Shepard guessed it was a main-sequence yellow star, often found at the center of life-supporting star systems. A green "net," similar to longitude-latitude lines found on world maps, ensnared the star, as it shrank down to a miniscule size before disappearing into the bottom-side bulb of the Star Destroyer.

Duras appeared again. "If you can fit the power of a sun into your ship's reactor, then we can discuss your civilization attempting to use energy weapons similar to ours. Despite the name, 'turbolasers' are not, in fact, primarily reliant on laser power like your GARDIAN systems—they also consume far more energy. One low-power turbolaser blast would overtax the power systems of the largest dreadnaughts you possess."

_SSV Kilimanjaro_ reappeared with a scale indicating its length, somewhere around but less than 1,000m. Swiveling to a side profile, the dreadnaught shrank as a _Curator_ popped into existence above it with a length of 2,500m.

Duras continued "In order to house a power generation system sufficient to power a single standard turbolaser using technology your military currently possesses, this dreadnaught would have to be much larger."

_Kilimanjaro_ grew until it dwarfed the _Curator_—three to four times its length.

"Do you have the engineering capabilities to construct a ship over 8,000m in length? Remember also the square-cube law; larger ship, far greater volume. More ship, more power required, larger reactor and support systems which themselves bring more mass, requiring yet more power…" His voice trailed off.

"You see? This 'Cerberus' you speak of is going to have their hands full trying to duplicate even the simplest of our technology" exclaimed Grayson.

* * *

"More power!" roared the Illusive Man. He'd come to see progress on turbolaser technology in person. The Telton Facility, formerly used for the development of biotic soldiers, had been rebuilt at great expense to house experimental weapons testing facilities.

"Sir" replied one of the project heads "We cannot produce additional power with these weapons—it's just not feasible. We lack a suitable reactant—they use 'Tibanna gas' for which we have no substitute. Using available materials, we only produce a fraction of the destructive power."

"What about increasing the power of the laser portion?"

"Needs too much energy, produces too much heat. The scaling is terrible right now because our attempts are inefficient. Double the energy out requires ten times the energy in."

The Illusive Man took on a pensive, yet dangerous look.

"Why is this, and what are you doing to solve the problem?"

The response went up at least half an octave in addition to speeding up. "Well, sir, it's not clear. That's the problem! These weapons operate in ways we don't completely understand—our physic doesn't permit these weapons to operate the way they do, yet clearly these weapons both exist and operate."

Completely serious, utterly deadpan response: "So reinvent physics."

The Illusive Man took his leave, with a whole room full of slackjawed scientists behind him.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night in the town of Sanctuary. Though the mood outside was foul, within the walls of Crimson Raider HQ, the atmosphere remained upbeat. It had been three weeks since the defeat of Handsome Jack, and four days had passed after the dedication of the Monument. The two hand-carved statues memorialized Roland and Bloodwing, and were a frequent site of flowers, photos, and other sentimental items.

Displaying an unusual aptitude for speed over red tape, the might of Hyperion was brought to bear by the newly-minted "Jackolyte" board. More Hyperion personnel poured onto the planet, with equipment to match.

It wasn't entirely clear why levitating the city was sufficient to stop Hyperion's "H-1" battlestation from firing at Sanctuary previously—and whatever the reason was for the break in attacks no longer held true. The station resumed its orbital mortar fire shortly after Jack's death, causing structural damage and wounding Patricia Tannis.

Scooter worked with Axton to create an area-defense system named AON (Active Ordinance Negation) by combining Sabre Turrets with fast-tracking software originally meant as a computer override for the large, mannable machine gun turret on Outrunners. Due to the relatively low fire rate and sparse density of incoming fire from the H-1, only a few AONs were necessary to completely protect Sanctuary under most circumstances (since the hovering city no longer possessed an energy shield). Nevertheless, metal boxes stamped with "In Case of Barrage, Deploy Turret" were found by the entrance to most buildings. Overall, the AON defense system had a roughly 98% success rate at preventing Hyperion's rockets from reaching Sanctuary.

The death of Bloodwing only seemed to strengthen Mordecai's resolve that Hyperion be brought down. Though Jack was dead, Hyperion in general had been a skag in the shed for Pandora far earlier than his arrival.

"Bad news, man. Rumor has it those pendejos are tryin' to spread themselves beyond the six galaxies we already know about into others."

"So, every time we see them, we punch 'em!" said Brick. A little too enthusiastically.

"Brick, you can't solve every problem by punching it" sighed Lilith. "Remember how well punching problems went?"

No one would ever let Brick live down his role-play in Bunkers and Badasses: he kept trying to apply real-life tactics (that is, punching) to _everything_, resulting in the deaths of several useful NPCs. Unlike more forgiving Bunker Masters, "Tiny" Tina forced the entire party to live with the consequences of Brick's actions. The fact that he'd chosen the _Siren_ character (immediately thereafter insisting "Her name is Brick, and she is the prettiest"), added another level to "never going to let you forget this."

"This time, Brick might have a point, Lil—those Hyperion bastards are supposedly arming a long-range ship to go looking for those Vaults we found" rasped Mordecai.

"DIBS!"

"You suck" sulked Maya, handing a smirking Lilith ten dollars.

Mordecai continued "I think we have an opportunity to smear two skags with one Runner. My sources say the ship will be launched from the station that keeps hitting us with mortars. If a team can fight their way to the station, the ship can be stopped and the mortar blown to hell!"

* * *

Preparations were focused on the massive Expeditionary Geoplanetary Optimizer, known as E.G.O., a ship that would carry Hyperion to the distant stars as part of Operation Slingshot. Stuffed with Loader robots and Hyperion assault troops in cryosleep, the massive vessel carried enough military hardware to subdue entire star systems. The key to success rested in the digistruction plant, the largest ever built. It would be used to construct prefabricated garrison bases to house most of the Hyperion personnel, who would remain in cryo until the automated systems had finished creating a place for them to live.

Built as a spatial modulation drive supercooled with Eridium slag that just happened to have living quarters on it (an engine with seats), the ship would be able to reach a velocity of approximately 1 million _c_ for a period of roughly three months before the drive was destroyed by wear. The board's gamble on this device and ship could not be understated. Should the mission fail to produce modest returns within a year, the trillions of dollars poured into the construction of the ship and the research for its one-of-a-kind, single-use drive would make the board look very bad indeed, despite having little impact on the overall bottom line. Like Jack before them, the current board made huge bets, but were so confident they'd never lose that increasingly audacious projects (including Operation Slingshot) were funded without question. A follow-up mission with the ability to carry a far larger force would launch approximately three months after the Slingshot ship arrived in the target galaxy.

The tendency to gamble was precisely what made Hyperion less profitable than its competitors in the short run—aggravating shareholders. However, those who questioned these moves were invited to Hyperion headquarters to have a "discussion" about the commitment one made when investing in Hyperion. None left questioning the board's moves.

The failure of most inter-galactic trade between the home galaxy and its neighbors did nothing to dull Hyperion's inclination to expand. The target galaxy, farthest away in the Local Cluster, had been largely unexplored by Hyperion agents save a small corner. In theory, Hyperion should have been aware that the galaxy, dubbed G-6, was well-populated with intelligent races, due to its own galaxy's membership in the Local Cluster and Federated Cluster Union. However, just like most other inhabitants in neighboring galaxies, knowledge of inter-galactic politics and trade was not a top priority—and the virtual non-presence of extra-galactic authorities only augmented general ignorance of the existence of other civilizations. Trade missions to other galaxies from the one Hyperion called home existed in the past, but they were abandoned as too costly.

Opportunity City, a previous Jack mega-project, lay fallow as resources were diverted to Operation Slingshot. The destruction of the Warrior left Hyperion with less-than-ideal levels of control over Pandora, though should Slingshot's goals be achieved, it wouldn't matter. Hyperion would be wealthier and more powerful than ever before—rumors abounded of galaxies with advanced technology, vast mineral wealth, and unexplored planets ripe for conquest. The instruments that had pointed Jack to Pandora suggested a planet of very unusual metallurgic and gravitational properties hovering near the edge of the target galaxy. This was the planned destination.

Though Jack and his daughter would never see their new planet in person, it had already been named "Angel's Cradle" in the navicomputer. The ship would be ready to launch within days.

* * *

By some miracle, Sam managed to get the conversation around to the Reapers without being too obvious about it.

"So these 'Reapers' are going to wipe out all life in your galaxy?" He pushed the datapad back toward Sam Shepard after perusing its contents.

Grayson was skeptical. However, he would not let his own doubts be the sole arbiter of whether or not to prepare against a supposedly-grave threat. Due to the Republic's emphasis on exploration, starship captains (and admirals) were expected to be scholars, diplomats, _and_ warriors, not just pugilistic adrenaline junkies.

Grayson sent word out to find Captain Anna Erickson, explorer extraordinaire—the first to make contact with the Citadel races. Though her ship had been destroyed, the status of the Captain herself was not clear and had been pushed aside due to more pressing issues. Until now.

Shepard inwardly cursed herself. Of course! She'd not brought Liara—and not having Liara around with a situation like this was akin to wanting to drive up a sheer cliff face without a Mako. Sam didn't even know where Liara was at the moment—being the Shadow Broker and all, she might be anywhere. She wasn't going to ask the admiral to leave his ship. She could just imagine how "trap"-like that would appear.

"Now, how to get ahold of someone who doesn't want to be found?"

* * *

At that exact moment, Liara T'Soni was wishing she could be harder to find. Her base on Hagalaz had somehow come to the attention of Cerberus. She fully expected the Cerberus cruisers to start wrecking her ship—instead they latched on and began sending over boarding parties.

She'd been away from the Citadel since finding out her assistant was a Shadow Broker mole, and after taking down the actual Shadow Broker with the help of Sam Shepard she'd remained secluded on her floating base for the most part. Her contacts had relayed disturbing rumors in the past few weeks regarding extra-galactic arrivals at the Citadel carrying unimaginably powerful weapons on behemoth starships. These "Outsiders" (or "Republic" as they called themselves) were neither offering anything for sale nor hostile, and their countermeasures defeated the best spies the STG had on hand (including several discreetly on her payroll). Thus, Liara didn't give the Republic a second thought.

The battle had stalemated—since Cerberus wanted the ship intact, they weren't willing to risk firing on it and knocking it from the sky. As a result, the only tactic employed involved wave after wave of increasingly augmented Cerberus soldiers. Liara knew that the two cruisers would eventually run out of infantry—but she, Feron and the few mercenaries still on the ship would buckle first. Sam Shepard had remarked that the base's unique construction, powered by the raging storms around it, would give it the ability to make a single-stage burn to escape velocity, ironically at the cost of the very engines that would push the ship out of orbit. Charging the lightning capacitors to 475% of their rated storage, then releasing all of them through the propulsion system would allow a crack pilot to steer the craft into space, while the incredible energy release from the insane maneuver would temporarily blind enemy sensors. Tali, visibly impressed by the ship, cautioned that such a ploy would be a one-time, last-ditch effort and would probably lead to its destruction due to physical stress on an old spaceframe. That said, it appeared some kind of sensor-reflective active camouflage had been at least partly installed on the ship at some point in its history. It might be possible to escape into space, then disappear while hoping for rescue. Not the best plan. However, it beat the certainty of being overrun by Cerberus.

"Feron, remember what Shepard told us last time she was here?"

The buzz of his voice answered—he'd moved inside to better coordinate defenses. "Pulling some impractical orbital burn to escape this very sort of situation? Yes."

"Do it."


	13. Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

"So we've decided Cerberus can't duplicate anything in the immediate future" mused Garrus. This point had been so contentious that discussions circled 'round it multiple times, despite always coming to the same conclusion.

"Took you long enough" huffed Tali. "I've only tried to tell you six hundred times…" She did a "facepalm" motion, though in her case it was more of "helmet-palm."

"Priority transmission coming in" interrupted Grayson. "It's the Citadel."

Unlike the language barrier which had initially prevented personal communication, ship-to-ship transmissions were surprisingly easy to adapt to standards usable for both sides. A few modifications to the phase variance, and everything was set.

_Maybe it's Liara_ hoped Shepard. She still hadn't figured out how to both contact Liara and explain to the Republic why law-abiding government agents were working with what was for all intents and purposes, a galactic crime syndicate.

Like a nervous crush calling and expecting parents to answer came a small voice. "Can we please speak to Sam Shepard?"

Unfortunately, easy communication only worked for those devices which were accepted by the _Revenant'_s outgoing "communications firewall." Neither Sam nor her party realized they'd been completely cut off from the world beyond _Revenant_, since all communications with _Normandy_ were unhindered.

_That's definitely not Liara's voice. Damn._

"This is Shepard. Repeat, this is Shepard." Sam tapped her communicator several times.

If a geth could show amusement, Legion did so at this moment. "Shepard-Commander, if the communicator you possess retained the ability to receive transmissions from the Citadel, there would be no requirement for the Citadel to contact the ship we are currently on in order to reach you."

Sam Shepard's reaction was similar to when she first realized what she sounded like saying "I should go" all the time. Utter speechlessness followed by dawning realization.

Shepard stepped over to the communicator which had displayed ship models, Duras, and now the Citadel Council.

_Must be really important for the entire Council to be calling me personally_,she thought. _Or maybe it's another 'Go do these really difficult things, then we'll be totally ungrateful no matter what the result is' call. God, I hope it's not that._

Valern spoke first. "Commander Shepard. I apologize for interrupting your meeting with the Republic admiral, but this is urgent. A batarian strike force using the same energy weapons that destroyed the Republic's cruiser is attacking innocents in the Attican Traverse."

"So, what do you want me to do?" questioned Shepard. _I missed the part where you gave me a fleet of starships…_

"You are a Spectre" continued Tevos. "You have full authority to requisition whatever resources you require with the backing of the Council. Since we cannot risk an incursion into the Traverse, we are asking for your help."

The transmission ended.

_I thought I would only be dealing with the Republic today. Republic/Citadel's company, and now it's getting stuffy from the crowd that's wedged itself in. Looks like things just got more complicated._

"Your frigate is no match for that batarian battleship" intoned Grayson. "Does your government normally do things like this? 'Kill this rancor, here's a bone'?"

Shepard had no idea what the admiral meant by 'rancor.' She kept the sarcasm out of her voice, just barely. "Spectres are supposed to be self-sufficient, creative, and independent. If you can't pull together a solution for a problem given nothing more than limitless authority and one's own force of will, you are not Spectre material."

"Tested by throwing them out of the reactor core and into the supernova. Not my preferred method" harrumphed Grayson. Given a quizzical look from all present, he elaborated. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire." Comprehension spread across the faces of the Citadel shore party.

* * *

Just like the Special Tasks Group, reality struck. Cerberus scientists quickly hit a brick wall in attempting to duplicate the Republic's weapons after a few weeks of progress. Technology so advanced it stood indistinguishable from magic was, in fact, nearly impossible to replicate given lack of understanding regarding how it worked.

Had they any reference material, it would have been possible for them to know that the room-sized device in the Telton Facility had about as much power as a low-power targeting laser by Republic standards-enough for ranging, not damage. The skyscraper-esque scaled-up version would have the power of a small handheld blaster.

Though Cerberus was founded to promote the interests of humanity against what was viewed as at best unhelpful, at worst malevolent, nonhumans, it was not above using alien technology. Thanix Cannons (turian) were an interesting curiosity, but their construction required several heavily-regulated components. Mass buys, even through Cerberus's numerous front companies, would draw attention. New tactics were needed.

"I'm not proposing that we join them, I'm proposing their technology joins us" read part of an organization-wide memo on batarian dreadnaughts. Yet again, Cerberus found itself in pursuit of something which it had little knowledge of beyond the effects caused by the weapon-lots of damage to a powerful foe.

The Telton Facility would see yet another purpose, as soon as actual examples of the batarian "lightning gun" could be acquired...

* * *

The Hegemony pulled back from galactic politics (again), this time due to an incident with the "Outsiders." Aware that the Council would not decide anything favorably, the batarian government elected to act as it always had after having the Council block its desired outcome: whip up the population into a nationalistic frenzy, in which a few overly-fervent individuals would inevitably commit acts of violence, then stand by helplessly while bleating about "If only the Council hadn't pushed this far."

This time, the random acts of violence would have a different flavor. The "lightning gun" used to great effect against the Outsiders, had been mounted on additional ships. Though two dreadnaughts had been destroyed, weapons from two (of three) additional damaged ships had been recovered, along with the returned-to-health final dreadnaught that had actually exchanged words with the hated Citadel Council.

Further research on the Leviathan of Dis yielded a lightning gun of cruiser-size. A fusion of organic circuitry from the corpse and stolen Thanix Cannon technology led to the original weapon. Shrinking it allowed more batarian vessels to mount the device, but the Hegemony Navy found itself constrained by how fast it could grow the required living components. Rumor had it that the Shadow Broker, who the Hegemony had been happy to do business with in the past (he/she/it seemed suitably anti-Council) had acquired both knowledge of the lightning gun and plans for it. Demands to return the information had gone unheeded—so the Hegemony dispatched a dreadnought and three cruisers to search out the Shadow Broker's base. Unbeknownst to the Hegemony, Cerberus surreptitiously aided its fleet, leading it straight to the Shadow Broker while using the trusted status of its agents within said fleet to swipe information regarding the "batarian super weapon."

It was at this juncture Liara T'Soni, Shadow Broker, found herself facing both Cerberus and now, suddenly, batarians. However, in a stroke of good fortune, the two factions seemed intent on fighting each other for the moment, leading to one Cerberus cruiser disengaging from its hold on the base. She was unsure why any batarians were here (she'd never gotten the impression batarians of any stripe were angry with the Broker), and through intermediaries she'd stressed her lack of knowledge/interest in the so-called lightning gun. Little did she know of the unholy alliance between Cerberus and the Hegemony. The former used the latter for firepower and its advanced weapon, feeding a constant stream of false intelligence undermining the Broker's repeated assertions of disinterest in batarian technology. The latter used the former to find the Broker and gain valuable (wrong) information about the Broker's doings. Of course, an alliance of thieves only lasts as long as there is no loot to be had—both sides stabbed the other in the back at the same time.

A batarian dreadnaught equipped with the lightning weapon appeared from behind Hagalaz, forcing a Cerberus cruiser to disengage or be hit by its main gun. Cerberus fighters, on standby to handle equivalent Broker defenses that never materialized (no hangar bays) launched against the attacking capital ship. Simultaneously, Feron initiated the "Shepard Protocol," which over the course of five minutes gathered a huge amount of energy into the Broker base-ship's lightning capacitors. The resulting engine discharge blinded everything within 50 kilometers, pushed the base-ship up into (then out of) orbit, and sowed confusion.

Liara shouted to be heard over the rattling, shaking, and hissing of her ship losing who-knows-what as it coasted away from Hagalaz. "Try turning on that stealth device Sam mentioned!"

Feron's reply was less than encouraging. "The device is nonfunctional. None of the stealth cells are connected to each other."

The two of them could only hope to be ignored in their ramshackle deathtrap of a ship as Cerberus and the batarians ripped into each other.

* * *

"We cannot let these incursions go unchallenged" resolved Grayson. "Given the state of the batarian forces, it is likely that only one or two ships with the mysterious yellow energy weapon exist—so deploying our vessels in groups of three should be sufficient."

A transmission interrupted his monologue. "Sir, we've located Anna Erickson. She is on board the asari capital ship _Destiny Ascension_. A personnel transfer request has been filed and she will depart for the _Revenant_ in the next fifteen minutes."

"Once she arrives, we'll deploy the fleet. Shepard, you and your shore may go with Erickson as part of Task Force Guardian I if you wish—though you'll have to leave the _Normandy_ behind since the _Curator_s don't have hanger bays large enough for it."

Shepard flatly refused. "We're not going anywhere without the _Normandy_ and the rest of our crew. Besides, I think we're going to visit a friend who lives in an out-of-the-way star system that's of little interest to anti-batarian patrols."

"Be well, and safe travels."

No big ceremony accompanied the Citadel party's departure. The Republic's forces remained skeptical of the alleged Reaper threat, but not outright dismissive, so Shepard felt at least some progress had been made. They'd also learned precisely why Cerberus would not be able to menace the galaxy with copied super-technology.

_Damn it_ she thought. _I really should file a report about this_.

Resigned to the inevitable, she sat down at her terminal, and began typing.

* * *

Halfway across the galaxy, Liara could have gone for something as boring as typing a mission summary. The Shadow Broker's base wasn't really meant for space travel—and this fact was making itself more and more clear with every passing minute.

"Shadow Broker, the breathable air supply in this vessel is dwindling" intoned the information drone, appearing behind her. "It will reach critical levels within five standard minutes."

The last time she'd been on a ship that was falling apart, Sam Shepard had died due to EVA suit failures.

"Feron! Get your hardsuit on!" The drell rushed to the nearest emergency equipment locker, only to find that the suit inside would not fit since it was proportioned for an asari. Liara had the opposite problem, but only realized her mistake trying to start suiting up with the helmet—which didn't accommodate her crest.

"Ouch! Switch lockers with me!"

As if the universe decided that the situation wasn't difficult enough, mass-effect fields throughout the ship tasked with simulating gravity failed as the vessel tumbled end-over-end. Several minutes of flailing passed as Liara and Feron fumbled into their hardsuits.

Without saying another word to each other, the pair began the not-often-practiced emergency drill. Save the computers and equipment first, as they were of incalculable value. The Shadow Broker would be, well, a shadow of her former self without them. In the hanger bay, several Kodiak drop shuttles (which Liara had "acquired") were fired up. Deliberately arranged in a line and connected together, they resembled nothing less than a space-train. Which was exactly their intended function—pulled by the lead shuttle whose cargo bay had been all but filled with a massive power generator, the rest of the shuttles had their effective mass reduced to zero.

The info-drone had the most impeccable sense of timing: "Shadow Broker, the air supply in this ship can no longer sustain most intelligent life."

"I'm busy" Liara hissed through gritted teeth. Only a few more crates, and…

BOOM. SCREEE! REEEEE!

The Shadow Broker ship began to come apart as both Cerberus and the batarians figured "If I can't have it, neither can they!"

"Feron! GO!"

Both lunged for the lead shuttle. In theory, there was a complicated launch sequence. Given the situation in which the ship came apart around them? Launch procedures were quickly forgotten. The shuttles were model-A (that is, equipped with basic stealth technology)—that might let the intrepid duo escape unharmed.

"Shadow Broker, please be aware that this configuration has an FTL range of approximately fifteen light years."

The obnoxious info-drone had transferred itself to the shuttle as the last hatch closed.

* * *

Somehow, Mordecai found himself acting as a sort of leader since Roland's passing. He'd gathered all the Vault Hunters into the second-floor conference room of the Crimson Raiders HQ. "Now, my intel says the closest spaceport is two hundred kilometers from here. That's a hell of a walk. We're going to have to pass through a bandit town or two to get there."

The hovering map detailed exactly how much of an excruciating journey this would be.

Axton spoke up. "Take it steady, slow, be careful and smart—we'll get there."

"Normally I'd agree with you" replied Mordecai. "Except that ship is going to be ready to launch in less than a standard week. If we want to be on it, we have about three days to blast our way to that spaceport."

"You mean punch!" Brick, as overly-enthusiastic-child-sounding as ever.

"As much fun as running around is, why don't we just drive?" asked Lilith.

"Lil, those Runners explode if someone breathes on them" retorted Mordecai. "Plus, they aren't the most reliable transportation around."

"Who said we had to drive those? In case you hadn't noticed, there are other kinds of vehicles available" came the cutting reply.

Zer0's faceplate changed to a ":P."

"Crimson Lancers are badass / We can digistruct them today / Be gone by tomorrow morning."

"He's right" said Axton, as if this settled the matter. Unexpectedly enough, it did.

Mordecai laid out the plan. "We'll take four Lancers and six bandit technicals loaded with supplies. This is going to be a dangerous mission, because we're going to have to disconnect from the New-U stations."

"Now why would we do that?" Brick was incredulous.

"Oh don't act like you don't remember that time we were attacking the Crimson Lance Armory. Lilith bit it, then she had to drive all the way from T-Bone Junction. It'll be a bit of a bigger problem if the rest of the convoy is a hundred klicks out!"

"Right." Brick felt slightly dense.

"Obviously, this means anyone who dies stays dead" finished Mordecai. "So we have to be very careful." He turned to Maya.

"Would you put that down and pay attention?"

The book she had her nose buried in dropped to the table, revealing Maya's slender, pale face and violently blue-purple hair.

"Sorry."

Maya's mind went into daydream-mode again. She _hated_ strategy discussions—it might have something to do with being a one-woman walking disaster area (also known as a Siren). Her "strategy" was attacking until everything was ground into bloody pulp.

So many books, so little time…


	14. Extensions of Politics by Other Means

Living on Pandora meant being tough as armor plate—or getting riddled with holes. It did not require an extensive education, which was why virtually everybody at the Crimson Raiders headquarters was irked at Maya for hogging the interstellar radio.

Found after the fall of Jack in the heart of Opportunity City, the device picked up superluminal communications from other galaxies with crystal-clear clarity. Of late, instead of Three Wolves' cutting remarks on "First Galaxy Problems" (as neighboring G-1 was known) or the Heavy Isotope band Red Shift, the "radio room" filled with politicians and analysts droning on about trade routes, taxes, and Local Galactic Cluster policy issues once Maya found out it could be used to tap into news rather than just entertainment.

Pandora, located in the relatively impoverished G-3 galaxy, had little access to or care for extra-galactic issues. FTL travel remained relatively expensive, and speeds that would make travel to whole other galaxies reasonable commanded prices out of reach to 99% of the galaxy's citizens. The 1% who could afford such luxuries were mostly of privileged political classes or high-level corporate suits.

G-3 in general had little love for the Local Cluster government or its even more remote higher-level, the Federated Cluster Union. In the thousands of years the Union had existed, its involvement was restricted to a single communique around the time of the defeat of the Destroyer: stop messing with alternate dimensions or there will be consequences. It wasn't that people _disliked_ the Cluster or the Union—rather, very few people even knew they existed.

Maya had taken to spending hours in the former Hyperion Information Stockade. There was just so much to learn! Maybe it wasn't information about Sirens, but every time she picked up one datapad, she'd find herself buried in another topic five hours later with no idea how she'd moved from "Exercising Your Pet Skag" to "Local Cluster Government (G-Cluster)."

_The Local Cluster,_ she read,_ was founded several millennia ago. Though travel within galaxies remains commonplace and inexpensive, movement between galaxies is still well beyond the reach of most individuals and even some civilizations._

"Blech, math" she spat, recoiling over a huge section on _FTL and Galactic Development_. The discovery of ways around the "cosmic speed limit" allowed explosive growth within galaxies, but progress on cost-effective _intergalactic_ travel was not nearly as even—some galaxies had it (G-1), others didn't (G-3).

_As galactic commerce expanded, it became necessary to create frameworks for trade between galaxies. On paper, no galaxy wanted to be known as a hub for "undesirable economic activities" (slavery, prostitution, currency laundering, unethical experiments, etc.), but in practice, the difficulties of maintaining compliance on a galactic level multiplied on an inter-galactic level. Just as little enforcement of various laws occurred in the outer rim territories of many galaxies, similar lax oversight was the norm for intergalactic business._

"I guess being a Siren has some advantages—like being able to kick would-be slavers' sorry asses." She grinned sadistically as she skipped several large charts and kept reading, skipping to the portion about her home galaxy.

_Economic development in G-3 has been constrained by a number of factors. Lacking an economic policy due mostly to absence of a central government has hampered growth. Rampant corporatism and corruption siphon off funds at every step. Faster-than-light travel is constrained to a few corporations who act as an oligopolistic force on the market, while extra-galactic travel is the province of the intrepid explorer_ _or moneyed scion as no widespread intergalactic travel method exists as of yet._

"No shit we're poor. Sure, this pile of Pandoran currency makes me a queen here, but it's worth nothing offworld." A few dollar bills dropped out of her hand.

_The Local Cluster government rarely hears from its constituents in G-3, as virtually no one is capable of (or bothers to) attend biannual meetings held in G-1. Those that can make it have their own reasons for not attending—mainly corporations wishing to avoid scrutiny after the Destroyer incident. This was the only occurrence of not only Local Cluster, but Federated Cluster Union, censures against G-3._

Of course, there was a link to an article about that very incident, one in which Lilith had participated. The cataclysm that caused Eridium to pop up everywhere. What passed for politics on Pandora consisted of "Who has the most guns, the most Eridium, and the biggest bandit horde?" If anyone were to make a major push for mass-produced extragalactic-grade FTL tech, it would extend to "Who has their tentacles in other galaxies?" Explorers found five other galaxies nearby, but travel to them was again the province of the rich.

The article on Sirens was full of speculation (which actually required a separate page). Given the information was coming from Hyperion, it maintained its tone about Jack/Hyperion needing to control all six Sirens (well, now five). Very little was noted about Eridium dependence, she noted bitterly. Thankfully, only certain Sirens were even affected by Eridium—and Maya was not one of them.

Click.

_Eridium has many unusual properties, most of which have not been completely explored. One notable side-effect from mining the substance is slag, which has many beneficial uses._

"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little" said Maya, as she ventured deeper into the article attempting to justify, among other things, repeatedly injecting humans with slag of varying concentrations.

_Hyperion has exclusive rights to slag research, leading to exciting developments in propulsion technology. Eridium slag has fantastic heat-absorbing properties, permitting engines to run longer, cooler, and more efficiently than ever before_.

The Local Cluster and Federated Cluster Union both declared many years ago, with much fanfare, that access to intergalactic travel should be a "Millennium Development Goal." It never happened. At least not on the scale they wanted it to, anyway.

"Maya. HEY MAYA!"

An angry Mordecai snapped his fingers in front of Maya's zoned-out face.

"Could you **please** pay attention?"


	15. The Long Walk

Just as many in the Terminus Systems were dismissive of the Council, the Citadel Council itself bore no great respect for the local cluster authorities or the Federated Cluster Union. The pair seemed to exist to create meetings, paperwork and discussions lengthy enough to shame champion debaters. Shepard knew name-dropping the Local Cluster authorities to the Citadel Council would likely result in nothing. However, she hoped against hope that it might be unusual enough to gain special notice. She was a Spectre, after all, so the Council would at least give her a hearing.

"I'd best run this past Anderson before I make a fool of myself in front of the entire Council" she said to no one in particular.

She decided to take the scenic route to Councilor Anderson's office, which meant a bit of a walk.

* * *

"This is _estupido_" muttered Salvador. "How're we supposed to be everywhere at once?"

"I know it's risky" countered Mordecai. "It's the only choice we have."

Scooter modified four Crimson Lancers to have even heavier armor than usual, making the ponderous vehicles slower than they already were. Onboard shield generators adapted from Axton's upgraded turret would give them some additional durability.

Four technicals had their rear weapons removed, two others had them replaced. In all cases, additional armor was welded on, and metal skirts packed in the back to be welded on over the wheels after the "big jump."

"You wanna keep this city flyin', I'm gonna have to stay here" intoned Scooter, when asked by Axton why he wasn't coming.

Krieg wandered aimlessly around the general staging area.

_Tell them you appreciate the chance to fight. Say you really look forward to helping them defeat Hyperion. _"Stay for the meat bicycle, leave to catch the poop train!" howled Krieg.

"Gaige" whispered Axton, "Are you sure you can't invent something to shut him up?"

"I invent robots, not stuff to deal with crazy people!"

"Wasn't the point of that robot to beat up a bully?" replied Axton.

"Shut up."

"If it weren't for the fact that I am apparently the only person keeping him sane, I'd say leave him here" sighed Maya.

"Alright! Let's go over this one last time!" Mordecai stood on an empty red chest, speaking to the assembled crowd. Virtually anyone who had ever helped the Crimson Raiders and/or the Vault Hunters gathered in Scooter's garage.

"Moxxi, Scooter, Marcus, Hammerlock, Tannis, Mamaril! And Claptrap. You keep the city flying, and the fight going! You're not going to hear from us for a _long_ time—wait for us to contact you before sending anyone else out. Moxxi, you're in charge—you used to be as much of a front line soldier as any of us."

Moxxi gave a tip of her hat and a curtsy.

"Brick—you're lead Lancer."

Crates of guns, ammo, and other supplies were being loaded into the technicals by the citizens of Sanctuary. Stampedes of feet echoed from one end of the staging area to the other as box after box was hefted aboard. Food and water couldn't be stored in a digistruct device, so it had to be carried.

"Axton—follow Brick in the second Lancer."

Everyone pitched in, even Tiny Tina, who'd only say that the huge Crimson Lance chest she'd found had a "surprise" in it.

"Zer0, is that your actual name? Yeah, you with the emoticon mask—stick with Zed in the ambulance and provide sniper cover. Jessup! You'll drive them."

"Yes sir!" The enthusiastic private finally got to do something other than stand outside Crimson Raider HQ—and he practically burst from happiness.

"Athena and I will be at the back, each in our own Lancer."

"Don't you need gunners?" quipped Lilith.

"We're not going to use anything that can't be controlled from the driver's seat. As I was saying!"

Sandbags were loaded into the back of the "ambulance" truck to help protect anyone inside. One ripped, spilling its contents before it could be lifted in.

"Gaige, Maya, Salvador, Lilith, Krieg! You'll be our rapid response team if the convoy runs into anything we can't handle without stopping. Jump out of the truck, and give 'em hell!"

Zzzzap! Gaige's "Deathtrap" materialized at her side as she checked it over. Maya adjusted her shield, and Lilith locked a fresh magazine into her HellFire.

"OVERCOMPENSATION!" roared Salvador, picking up a sniper rifle and a rocket launcher, waving them around and firing into the air.

"I'll make jello out of your eyeballs!" Everyone winced. Krieg spouted off all sorts of (often disturbing) nonsense, but hadn't actually hurt anyone—quite the contrary, he'd joined the Vault Hunter team.

Each would be in a separate technical, so that incapacitating all five at once would be unlikely. Two of the vehicles were equipped with Scooter's jury-rigged "Anti-Things-That-Fly-Around-Really-Fast" (quad Scorpios) guns mounted in the back.

"Pilla! Rodriguez! Chacon! Chapel! Spack! Keep those trucks moving, don't stop for anything!"

The last few items were packed in sideways.

"We jump down from Sanctuary, and then we turn north! Through the Dust, then off into uncharted territory!"

Someone in the crowd shouted "Death to Hyperion!"

"Death!" roared the crowd. "DEEEEEEEAAAAAAATH!"

* * *

The Citadel was deceptively calm. Though virtually no evidence of Sovereign's attack remained, a tension filled the air—partially from the arrival of the Republic and partially due to some people believing the whole "Reapers are coming" thing.

Sam Shepard stopped to grab a Tupari. She'd somehow ended up in an endorsement for them—without her knowledge. Something about the Alliance having limited commercial rights to her image; whatever, she got royalty deposits in her bank account so she didn't really care.

And Tupari wasn't that bad, and it certainly wasn't going to knock you down, then have you wake up in the bathroom of a dance club.

She finally arrived at Anderson's office, buzzed herself in and found Anderson at his desk.

"My report, sir!"

"Shepard. It's good to see you again. What've you got?"

"The exchange with the Republic went well. Have you ever heard of governments above the Citadel Council?"

Anderson was about to reply, but he paused. The Council's policy in this area was blatantly self-contradicting. On one hand, the governments they were theoretically accountable to were so distant as to not matter, resulting in the Council acting as if said governments did not exist without many consequences. On the other hand, Council policy was to officially deny the existence of any higher levels of government.

On paper, the "supervisory governments" of the Local Cluster and the Federated Cluster Union were mostly night-watchmen entities. They existed to prevent disastrous galaxy-on-galaxy conflicts and to control super-states that could emerge if a single power gained political/economic control over a whole group of galaxies.

The Trans-Galactic Republic, with its massive fleets and de-facto sovereign status over ten(!) galaxies, definitely met this qualification. However, it had never done anything to merit more than a "Letter of Concern" from the higher authorities.

"Shepard, walk with me."

"Sir?" Sam's confused look caught Anderson's attention.

The councilor used a device on his omni-tool to summon a shuttle which arrived thirty seconds later. Helping her in, David Anderson directed the craft toward the _Normandy_'s docking bay.

"Councilor? Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Sam's voice betrayed a level of urgency now.

The two hustled aboard the Normandy, into the briefing room.

"EDI. Can you guarantee the security of this room?"

The globe-shaped avatar appeared. "Admiral Anderson, I can affirm that this room is secure. No listening devices are present, and no party will be able to hear your conversation."

"EDI, I'm ordering you to not record this conversation, or remember that it took place on my authority as a member of the Citadel Council."

The avatar disappeared.

"What the hell, Anderson? What's so secret that we can't talk about it in your own office?" Sam had the distinct feeling she'd been left in the dark on something big, important and of direct consequence to her life.

Despite the isolation of the room, Anderson's voice dropped low. "What I'm about to tell you cannot be repeated to anyone. Ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes…sir."

"You asked me whether I knew of any governments beyond the Council. Officially, as Councilor David Anderson, the answer is no. As your friend and former commanding officer, I can be a little more detailed."

"Tell me more about these multi-galactic governments."

"Well" he began, "It's a bit of a lengthy story. The short version is that yes, there are governments beyond the Citadel Council, but we don't often hear from or see much of them. They seldom impact everyday life—so most citizens wouldn't notice them in the first place."

Shepard was puzzled. "So we have governments that no one has ever heard of doing very little, yet their existence is a big secret. That makes a lot of sense."

"The problems these governments address existed a long time in the past—millions of years. Whole galaxies were destroyed, entire species wiped out. Think Earth's old World Wars, except make the nations galaxies, and expand the destruction appropriately. They were created in secret during the war by majority of governments who were tired of all the fighting."

Sam started to understand. "So they're also going to say that 'Thanks to us, we haven't had these problems since,' right?"

"Actually" replied the admiral, "That's probably the last thing anyone would say. The main reason no one makes intergalactic war is that it's too expensive. Not to mention technologically impossible for many civilizations."

"So what'd they do to stop everyone from blowing each other up? Some kind of big galactic grounding?" Confusion returned.

"In a way, yes, actually. The new governments destroyed the aggressors' inter-galactic travel capability. Literally a case of throwing away the key—technology permitting simple travel between galaxies was forcibly forgotten."

"Forcibly…forgotten?" The implications seemed unpleasant, almost Cerberus-like.

"It may surprise you, but even societies as advanced as those who casually hop galaxies can have dark ages" replied Anderson. "Supposedly, mindreading was commonplace. It wasn't difficult to find people who knew something about intergalactic engine technology and remove the memories from their minds."

Sam Shepard grabbed a beam to steady herself as her mouth dropped open.

"Just like the recipe for Tupari soda, some things are actually only known by a handful of people. Ancient galactic history is one of those topics. Though the intentions were good, the methods…were unpleasant."

"So, how do you remove someone's memories?" She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

"That too, was lost. The governments who ordered these actions carried them out to the letter—all knowledge of intergalactic engines erased, many top scientists were either put to death or killed themselves—no one is sure. Then, the entire government resigned and exiled themselves to deep space."

"If they're gone, why do we know all this?" None of this made any sense whatsoever.

"They left meticulous records covering most of this. It's been kept under wraps for millennia or more, to keep anyone from repeating the mistakes that were made."

"And how exactly has this sort of nuttiness not leaked absolutely everywhere?" The level of incredulity in Shepard's voice might well have caused the room to explode were it flammable.

"Mainly because it seems too incredible to believe. If someone told users of the extranet who speculate on these things that some of the more wild theories about extra-galactic governments and the history behind them were actually true, I think the whole extranet might crash."

"An open secret—one hidden in plain sight because no one will believe it" Shepard breathed. "Insane."

"I'm guessing this wasn't what you expected when you asked me about other governments." Anderson smiled, a weird expression given what had just been said, but Shepard still felt reassured.

He continued, "The Council already knows the Trans-Galactic Republic is a stellar neighbor—we figured that out once we found out who they were. There was a reason everything settled so quickly—as you may or may not be aware, the Republic controls ten different galaxies. Their industrial base is incalculably huge, their fleets blot out whole star systems when they move. We knew they existed, and that they were very powerful—we just didn't know the specifics. Nor had we ever communicated with them."

"And to think all I wanted was for you to take a look at my report before I submitted it to the full Council" laughed Shepard.

"They would have 'taken it under advisement' just as they always do" sighed Anderson. "I'll be honest with you—the rest of the Council still isn't sold on the Reapers. I believe you. But I am one of four."

Sam Shepard could have laughed. The Council knew about ancient conflicts, extra-galactic civilizations, and history stretching back into mind-bogglingly old ages. Yet the simple concept of invaders from outside the galaxy was too much for them.

"So if the Reapers show up" started Sam slowly, "and the Republic's still here?"

Anderson chuckled. "I suspect we'd get to see exactly what those big guns of theirs are capable of."

* * *

The convoy roared away from Sanctuary. One vehicle at a time, they dropped from the pavement outside the garage (which simply ended) into the air, until finally hitting the ground. Any damage repaired over time using the built-in nanomachines. Despite "don't stop for anything" being the mantra, the first thing the convoy did once all vehicles were clear from Sanctuary was…stop.

Several people with knowledge of welding jumped out to attach plating around the wheels of the technicals. The Vault Hunters fanned out to protect the group—only a few stray bandits needed cleanup ("N00B!").

Once saddled-up again, the convoy began to move. The Lancers were slugs to begin with; Scooter's modifications made them even more ponderous. Powerplants roared under the strain, but kept chugging anyway. The convoy had twice the range it needed, so fueling vehicles was not going to be an issue. The heat, hills, and attacks were an entirely separate problem.

"This is Brick! Spiderants ahead!"

CHACKACHACKACHACKA. Scorpio bursts cut through spiderant soldiers attacking the convoy. "You all should be running!" yelled Maya as her gun tore yet another insectoid to bits.

FWOOM. FWOOM. Lancer main guns added to the symphony of death pouring off the convoy. Huge, highly-charged explosions caused a cluster of spiderantlings to turn blue before disintegrating.

In order to draw as little attention as possible, they'd elected to stay off what few roads exited in the Dust. This also meant not stopping at Ellie's garage either, due to a nearby bandit camp. Doing so pushed them through the wilder areas.

"Bored, bored, I am so booooored" whined Gaige.

"No, we're not there yet" replied Athena. "Also, if you're going to complain, switch to a different channel! This is for tactical communications only!"

The Vault Hunters riding in technicals used their own channel for communication…most of the time. Krieg hadn't been given the non-tactical channel since no one wanted to hear about intestine salad, blood rain, or whatever else he felt like babbling on about.

Unlike most trips through the Dust (in Runners, mostly), this one was taking far longer since the movement pace was a crawl. Everyone in the truck beds was hot, sweaty and uncomfortable. Every bump was transmitted into the rear end of anyone riding in the back. Rattling supply crates didn't help the situation either, as the beds were as full as could be. Heat-powered refrigeration crates kept some rations decently cold—cold enough to prevent outright spoilage anyway. The same could not be said about preservation of taste!

Brick looked down at the console in his Lancer. The radar showed five dots incoming from the rear, marked as unknown-no-IFF with elevation from the ground.

"Bandits!" he barked into the tactical channel. "Incoming buzzards!"

Maya loaded the belt-fed ammunition into the quad Scorpio.

"Yaaaaaaaah! DIE!"

CHACKACHACKACHACKA.

Lilith's gun spat fire as well, tracking a different target.

CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACH ACKA.

When possible, the Lancers added their machine guns to the fray. The main cannons were powerful, but far too slow to track the zipping buzzards.

Buzzard fire raked the two front Lancers to little effect. Bullets "spanged" and "snapped" off the up-armored technicals, while a few struck the reinforced armorweave top.

At the appearance of a stream of light through the top of his truck, Salvador snapped out of his boredom. "TIME FOR BOOM!" bellowed Salvador, picking up two SMGs, a Maliwan fire and Dahl standard. He readied to leap out.

"Negative on that" crackled Mordecai. "We don't need people running around outside right now—the convoy hasn't stopped and likely won't have to."

CHACKACHACKACHACKAC—BOOM!

A buzzard crashed down out of the sky, its right engine destroyed. Bloody bandit bits hit the passing ambulance-truck.

PWOP! PWOP-PWOP!

The distinctive sound of a sniper rifle indicated Zer0 had joined the fight from the passenger seat of Zed's mobile clinic. Using a corrosive Hyperion, he splashed green glop all over two bandits who happened to be flying closely together. High-splash elemental rounds were great for this sort of work.

It also meant he didn't have to worry as much about accuracy losses from shooting out the window of a moving vehicle.

"Aaaaaarrgh!"

Another bandit exited the fight, downed somewhere a few hundred meters away from the convoy.

PWOP!

"It's killin' the hull!" A wavering buzzard kept firing even as its left engine disintegrated, causing it to spiral out of control and explode in midair.

"Sirens don't lie / Elementals own / go to death"

TATATATATATA! A burst of fire from Athena's Lancer landed a lucky hit, blowing the head off a buzzard pilot. The craft veered off.

The last buzzard, seeing how quickly his friends had fallen, turned tail. Fortunately for him, the volley of parting shots mostly missed.

Brick's boisterous voice filled everyone's ears. "Looks like we got 'em. Good going."

The remaining half-hour in the Dust was a bit of a breather. No notable attacks occurred, and the convoy did not have to stop.

"This is it people" intoned Athena over the tactical channel. "We're exiting the well-explored parts of this area. Expect heavy resistance from bandits from here on out."

"You heard the lady" added Mordecai. "Everyone in the trucks—get your guns. Some of you should move to the front seat—when we stop I want the quickest Khoonese fire drill _ever_. Stop…NOW!"

Brakes screeched. Salvador and Gaige jumped from the back of their trucks, swung around and took up residence in the passenger side, gun at the ready.

The convoy had stopped for less than fifteen seconds before it rolled out again.

So far, so good. A few kilometers north looked like an abandoned town—but on Pandora you never knew. Psychos might pop out of the woodwork, or mercenaries could appear.


	16. Bad Day

Shepard said her goodbyes to Anderson, who had assisted in editing her report as to not arouse too much suspicion from the rest of the Council (who had no idea that both Admiral Grayson and Councilor Anderson had shared far more information with Shepard than they would have liked).

Shepard decided to take the _Normandy_ off to see Liara—or, at least stop by Hagalaz in case Liara happened to be there. They hadn't spoken in some time, and she wanted to catch up. Shepard tried having EDI call ahead, but was met with static.

"Wow, being a little secretive today, Liara?" Some people had "out of office" messages—others simply answered when they felt the need, otherwise leaving the impression that no one was there.

* * *

While Shepard spoke with Anderson, Liara and Feron were fighting for their lives. The shuttle-train had not caught the attention of either Cerberus or the batarians, both of whom were determined to destroy more of the Shadow Broker ship than the other as an absurd conclusion to "If I can't have it…"

Liara turned to Feron. "Our FTL range is so short we are unlikely to be able to reach any friendly outpost from here."

"Let us not despair yet. The gods may yet favor us."

She tried to avoid sarcasm. "Yes. For example, Samantha Shepard may suddenly appear out of nowhere and rescue us from our predicament."

A beep sounded from the console, indicating a proximity alert.

"Ah, there's our ride now" she remarked. _Must keep hope alive…_

Liara almost didn't want to look to see who it was. Her hopes hung by a thread—well, a thread and the life-support batteries in the shuttle. It would be totally contrived if Shepard showed up now…

Liara finally looked down.

…it wasn't Shepard. Unless the _Normandy_ had grown to twenty times its original size and gotten a totally different identify-friend-foe tag, which she doubted.

Broadcasting in rotating languages (asari, turian, human, salarian), new arrival's message blared out of the sound system.

"This is Republic Task Force Guardian One addressing all combatants within reach of our communications. Cease hostilities, or you will be tractored and fired upon. We have detected a batarian dreadnought with the 'lightning weapon' and are authorized to intercept it under the Status of Forces Agreement between the Republic and the Citadel government. Do not attempt to escape or you will be forcibly intercepted. This is your only warning!"

Anna Erickson was not in a bargaining mood as she issued orders to her bridge crew.

"Lock tractor beams on all ships. Use ion cannons to neutralize any resistance."

Blue ion blasts lanced out from _In Sunset's Shadow_. Electrical snakes played across the surface of one of the Cerberus cruisers—its lights flickered followed by an engine cut-out. Small explosions marked the impact of either Cerberus or batarian ordinance against shields protecting _Depths of Winter Cold_.

Erickson ordered continued focus on disabling, not destroying, the combatants. "I hate playing bar-bouncer, but SOFA dictates we minimize destruction."

Her new ship, _On Angel's Wings_, was an updated revision of the _Curator_-class, a Mark II. Unusually, most enhancements were efficiency-related, rather than manifesting themselves as increases in firepower. The reactor generated slightly more energy due to enhancements in power distribution, while systems cumulatively used 3-5% less on average. More computing power enabled superior automation of systems, cutting crew requirements from 60,000 down to as few as 45,000 (depending on whether fighters were embarked). One heavy turret on each side also contained modified circuits which enabled it (after a fashion) to switch between ship-crippling ion cannons and enemy-melting turbolasers. Finally, the forward-mounted variable-yield turbolasers could now fire once every thirty seconds instead of once every minute.

Liara stood in awe of the massive ships. It became apparent what exactly "getting tractored" was at this point—invisible "hands" reached out from the imposing vessel, grabbing onto Cerberus cruisers, batarian frigates, and single batarian dreadnought.

The dreadnought tried to fire at a crippled Cerberus cruiser being dragged behind the group of shuttles. Its movement constrained by energy fields, it missed—and a blast from the dreadnought's main energy weapon slammed into the lead shuttle.

Liara blacked out.

* * *

Heading into some unnamed cluster of abandoned buildings that were clearly once a settlement, everyone on the convoy was tense. How could absolutely nothing be happening? The only noises were the hum of engines and squeaks from suspensions as vehicles negotiated the terrain. A faded "Dahl Corporation" sign hung by one corner on the broken façade of a nearby shop.

Brick gave the order to speed up. Some tough driving lay ahead, but it seemed there were few places bandits could hide. "Once we reach this bridge, we'll—damn it! The bridge is gone! Everybody stop, stop, STOP!" Brick's Lancer halted within five meters of a steep drop into a gorge.

As if the land itself taunted them, the gap spanned only half a dozen meters, but no nearby naturally occurring "ramp" would let the convoy jump the obstacle, nor were bridge-building supplies included in the convoy's crates.

Axton zoomed his map out, trying to find a way around the crevice blocking further progress. Unfortunately, no easy solutions presented themselves. Likely, no bandits (zero marked settlements along the ravine) but it would take an extra six hours at this pace heading west to where the gash in the dirt began.

Opening the convoy-wide channel, he spread the bad news. "Looks like we're going to have to do a big detour to get around this gorge. Turn left, then keep following it until it ends!"

Replies came in the form of mumbled curses. The general radio silence (and flat-out prohibition on contacting Sanctuary lest someone intercept the transmissions and figure out that an expedition had been sent) was getting to everyone.

"I'd rather listen to tales of Moxxi's sex life than this nothing. Rakk mating rituals are more entertaining!" groused Salvador.

"Well…" started Brick.

"_Seriously?_" Lilith cut in—"You guys are such perverts."

The convoy departed Sanctuary early in the "morning" (though, given Pandora's weird day-night cycle, "normal" counts of time of day didn't mean much in terms of light/dark). Around noon, a lunch-stop was called.

This being Pandora, picnics meant eating with weapons ready and setting up with an eye for defense. The trucks were circled around the "picnic area," and Lancers arranged at equidistant points around the ring of technicals. Axton and Salvador volunteered to man quad Scorpio turrets while the rest ate. Setting the sophisticated combat software aboard the Lancers to "Auto-Defend-Hold-Position" offered another layer of security.

Out in the vast expanse of Pandoran wilderness, there was little shade to be had other than near vehicles or in the backs of the technicals. Combine bad food with discomfort, and absolutely no one was happy. A fridge unit failed, though its contents had only been less-than-cold for a few hours, so several people ended up eating warmer-than-usual sandwiches.

"This quiet is unnerving" remarked Mordecai. "I just know something's going to happen!"

"If they come, we'll be ready" shouted Axton from his perch on one of the turrets. "Two Sirens, two snipers, hardened soldiers and other assorted badasses—they won't take us without a fight."

"Gaige" remarked Athena, "You're going to attract skags with that!"

Half of Gaige's sandwich had been introduced to the ground, since "I don't like tomatoes, lettuce, or mayo!" She happily chomped on the remainder (bread, meat, cheese), having smeared as much of the mayonnaise off as possible using the lettuce.

"Whatever, they won't get past the turrets. Besides, burgers are totally better than sandwiches!"

Maya, Lilith and the enigmatic Zer0 sat together on repurposed crates.

"I only came here to find out more about Sirens" mused Maya. "I never dreamed I'd end up hunting for a Vault, bringing down a tyrant or heading off to a whole other galaxy."

"Join the friggin' club. Ever wonder if people leave rumors about Sirens around in hopes of reeling in an actual Siren? I came here because allegedly another Siren was on the planet."

Maya was intrigued. "There were other Sirens on Pandora?"

"At least one aside from" she paused, "Angel…this other Siren was working for the Crimson Lance—Commandant Steele. She tried to stop us from unsealing the first Vault—had I known what was in there I might actually have listened to her."

Zer0 hadn't contributed to the conversation in some time, mainly due to it drifting away from the topic of elemental weapons (which he and the Sirens shared a fondness for). However, he chose not to mingle with the other Vault Hunters for unknown reasons.

Despite chastising Gaige for her pickiness, Athena couldn't help but feel sorry for the child. That's honestly what she was—a child, 18 years old, surviving on the one of the nastiest planets in a run-down galaxy. At one point, the Lance had considered expanding to one of the five other galaxies in hopes of finding a way out of the economic morass, but like many other similar efforts, it never happened. Athena had been slated to be a team leader for this endeavor, but internal politicking shuffled her to Pandora. Seeing the incompetence, corruption and greed gripping Lance forces, combined with her unjust reassignment, she defected.

Salvador's radar indicated an unknown presence approaching.

"Strip the flesh! Salt the wound! HAHAHAHAHA"—CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKA!

A blood-stained psycho mask skidded across the dirt.

Meanwhile, Krieg chomped on freeze-dried ice cream and made no comment for quite some time. Apparently, even mostly-insane psychos could be silenced by the awesomeness of ice cream.

* * *

Boarding parties were dispatched to take control of the twin Cerberus cruisers, one batarian frigate (the others were twisted masses of metal), and batarian dreadnought. Heavy attack transports burned their way through armor plate while behemoth assault troopers, towering over their more common brothers and sisters at three meters, decimated any resistance.

Aboard the batarian capital ship, a last-ditch defense was mounted in a hallway. Weapons were checked and oaths were said as a Republic buzzsaw cut into the armored door—which promptly blew inward. Aiming down the sights, a batarian commando emptied round after round in the general direction of the destroyed door. Blue-armored bodies tumbled, but more poured through. The blasts from the Republic's troops slowly whittled down the defenders. Even taking 5:1 losses, the boarding party advanced.

BOOM. A massive shape tore through what was left of the entryway. Standing three meters in height with armor that could deflect starfighter weapons, the assault trooper's blasters were capable of leveling the hallway on their own. Most fire from both sides had halted, and a distinct hissing could be heard from the towering soldier—presumably breathing, as the sound followed a distinct pattern.

"Atmosphere is human-compatible. Repeat, atmosphere is human-compatible" intoned the trooper. The hissing stopped as filters disengaged, allowing a freer flow of air in and out of the trooper's helmet, which ended the breathing sounds.

A handful of batarians, hands on heads, were marched away by a squad of regular Republic troopers.

Servos whirred as the Republic captain lifted the batarian commander by his neck. "What have you built here?"

Choking out his best approximation of a widely-adopted trade language, "This is a diplomat ship—our armaments are defensive…"

"If this is a diplomat ship, then where is your ambassador?" The batarian dropped with a thud, moving no more. Likely, he'd been knocked out.

"Tear this ship apart until you figure out how the guns work. Bring me the crew, I want them alive!"

Erickson's force mopped up the mess. Only once the shooting stopped did anyone notice what was left of the Shadow Broker ship.

"No one could have survived that" remarked a sensor officer. "Tell the captain we haven't found anything else worth noting."

"All clear, repeat, all clear" intoned the ensign at operations. "Freighters, you are go for jump."

Several large container ships hyperspaced in and immediately began deploying space platforms. An ad-hoc base would be created to study the captured technology, especially the "lightning weapon." Normally, enemy ships would be hauled off to a more secure location, except for the inconvenient lack of anything resembling a hyperdrive aboard the batarian vessel.

Two more _Curators_, _Steadfast Guardian_ and _Unyielding Defender_, popped out of lightspeed to screen deployment of the space stations. Several squadrons of _Raptor_ general-purpose starfighters emerged from hanger bays to patrol the area.

Red-Tau Squadron was first to fully deploy. Due to the sheer number of fighters carried aboard Republic vessels, such as 144 per _Curator_, (combined with the size of Republic fleets) it became necessary to impose two-part names on squadrons to avoid administrative confusion. Most pilots took to using abbreviations when it was known no similarly-named squads were in the same general area.

"This is RT-Leader, all units report in!"

_The usual _thought the pilot of the number six craft. _A blue milk run—an everyday, keep-the-kids-from-fighting intervention in the affairs of technologically-lesser species_.

"RT-Six—" WHUMPF. "What was that? Does anyone have visual scanning?"

Something had bounced off the canopy of his fighter. Something that looked distinctly like a body. The odds of hitting anything in space were astronomically small—except when one flew through the middle of a still-cooling battlefield in which many ships were damaged, causing crew to be ejected into the vastness of space…

* * *

"Seriously, man, this is making me nervous" intoned Mordecai.

The convoy resumed its westward trek along a narrow (yet impassable) gorge—experiencing no resistance whatsoever for several hours. Not even angry wildlife.

Night finally began to fall (ninety hours after it had last occurred). Trying to keep a circadian rhythm on the planet was close to impossible for non-natives. By consensus, the convoy would continue driving for five hours, then stop to rest.

As the column disappeared into the distance, hungry skags licked up the remains of Gaige's sandwich.

Eyelids began to droop as the scorching temperatures (which hadn't dissipated this early in the night) took their toll. Though the Lancers were air-conditioned, none of the other vehicles had such a luxury.

"Bloody hell, Private Spack—keep that vehicle in a straight line!" bellowed Brick, as the private's vehicle veered off course, rammed into yet another protruding rock. He strongly suspected the young man was watching a video about "the star wars" instead of focusing on driving.

Lights switched on. At least the technicals had that feature; automatic headlights.

Several hundred feet above, final checks were being run.

"4N631 satellite intel on suspected insurgents confirmed. Column spotted."

Hyperion Blackbirds swooped down, firing their experimental Eridian pulse cannons as they came. Most of the shots went wide—at this point the Hyperion pilots were enjoying playing with unsuspecting prey. One blast hit a technical, but was mostly ablated by extra armor.

"What the hell just hit us?" demanded Mordecai.

"There ain't nothing on the radar!" exclaimed Brick.

Something painted a similar color to the Hyperion night sky, a purplish-blue with white mottling, buzzed the convoy. "Buzzed" in a relative sense, because the engines made only a slight whooshing noise as the craft passed overhead.

"Turn on the lights!" yelled Athena. Despite not being officially in charge, she felt comfortable issuing orders—she was, after all, a former Lance Assassin commander. Spotlights blazed from the two trucks carrying anti-aircraft armaments. Presenting a double-edged sword by simultaneously revealing attackers to defender fire but making obvious the convoy's defense strategy, the rewards nevertheless outweighed the risks.

"Dismount! Weapons free, weapons free!" bellowed Brick. Three of five in the technicals (the others operated the guns) jumped clear of their rides and turned the fury of their weapons to the skies.

One of the nearly-invisible assailants flashed through one of the twin searchlights mounted on the technical whose gun Maya was firing. A pointy cockpit, four engines angled out and away like the petals of a bizarre flower (also pointy), and…pointy wings swept back. If the ship's design alone were a weapon, one could easily imagine enemies bleeding to death merely by touching it. Two (need it be mentioned?) cannons flanked the cockpit.

CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKA!

CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKA!

CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKA!

PEW! PEW! PEW! PEW! PEWPEWPEWPEW!

CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKA!

A burst from Lilith's turret finally intersected the path of one of one of the flying attackers. Shells shredded through the cockpit, spraying what was left of the pilot all over the inside. The ship careened off, spiraling away into the distance before impacting the ground with a muffled thud.

"You just had to say it" complained Zed from inside his ambulance. "You just _had_ to say something about the nothing!"

Lancer shields were raised, allowing ground-based defenders to fire from relative safety. However, the remaining two Hyperion craft were proving much more difficult to kill. Flashes of blue, then no bullets seemed to be able to touch them. On the other hand, both ships showed up clear as day on radar due to the energy signature from their now-activated stealth-destroying shield systems.

Whether it sheer luck or Mordecai's aiming skills, a blast from his Lancer's main cannon hit square on an attacking Hyperion vessel. Shields sparked, failed, and overloaded. Something exploded.

"YEAH!"

In his excitement, he only belatedly noticed the trajectory of the falling ship. "Maya! GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

"Huh?"

"Look! Look!" Frantic pointing ensued. The burning, sparking fighter headed straight for one of the anti-aircraft trucks. Maya dove clear; the truck crumpled; the pointy fighter plowed through, embedding its nose in Mordecai's Lancer. Through the rear-right tire, into the passenger compartment.

As he vaulted out the top hatch of his now-useless Lancer, Mordecai could have sworn the pilot's lifeless face was twisted into a smile—PFOOM.

The ship went up in purple flames.

By some miracle, no serious injuries occurred to anyone in the convoy. However, two vehicles were toast (one Lancer and one gun-truck), one technical was damaged, and the shield module on Athena's Lancer decided to stop working.

"VIOLEEEEEEEENNNNNNNCCEEEEEEEEEE!" Salvador's thundering voice echoed throughout the desert as a nearly endless stream of rockets poured out of his dual-wielded arsenal. Between the lightshow from his launchers and the resulting massive explosion of the final Hyperion attacker, it almost seemed like (explosion-hued) daylight again for a few seconds.

As the dust settled, Maya stood on her truck surveying the damage.

"Well, that sucked."

* * *

Two bodies were hauled aboard _Unyielding Defender_. Stripped of their EVA gear, one looked like the "asari," the mono-gendered, distinctly feminine race first encountered on the Citadel. The other, green skin, large black eyes with compound lids, and oddly shaped hands (five digits, two fused), were a species the Republic had not yet formally encountered.

Medical scans suggested both were alive, but only just.

Each suffered severe burns as a result of being too close to a powerful energy weapon discharge. Later analysis of video taken during the battle showed a few frames in which a small craft took a massive hit from the batarian dreadnought's main gun. It was surmised the survivors were piloting this craft—which had no shields of any kind and little protection against a capital-scale weapon.

Blunt-force trauma was evident more on the asari, though her companion also suffered it. The flexible skin and thick flaps of the "crest" were badly bruised, but apparently spared the asari's brain from excessive damage due to being knocked unconscious, then tossed around a disintegrating spacecraft. The green alien was not so lucky. Its sex was unclear, though for some reason many of the personnel working the trauma center assumed it was male. In any case, lung function was severely impaired, extreme cranial swelling had occurred, and several minor fractures were evident.

Intravenous drugs were administered and surgery performed in an attempt to control the swelling. However, worsening lung function (for no reason anyone could yet determine), was the biggest immediate problem. Unable to surmise why the patient's lungs were unable to function, Republic doctors put the alien into a pressurized oxygen tent.

Too late, a doctor gleaned vital information. Species: drell. Sex: male. The former being far more important than the latter, it became immediately apparently why he was dying: moisture buildup in his lungs from a poorly-filled, intended-for-asari air supply hooked to his EVA suit in the rush to evacuate—the air was not cleansed of most humidity as it would have been for a drell. His stint in the high-oxygen, high-humidity (for a drell) recovery tent only worsened the situation.

"Even if he wakes—" BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

"Damn it."

Despite heroic use of a KickStart 900.1 CirculaBoost, the drell would not revive and was pronounced dead a little more than an hour after intake.

The asari remained in critical but stable condition. An alert was dispatched to the Citadel in hopes of someone being able to identify her.

As fortune would have it, such an opportunity arose shortly thereafter.

_Normandy_ dropped out of FTL from the nearest mass relay. Ship signatures lit up all over the board—Hagalaz had never been this heavily trafficked before. Confused, Joker punched a comm up to Shepard.

"Uhh, Commander, this neighborhood seems more crowded than the last time we were here."

"Oh great" sighed Shepard. "What, or more likely who, is it?"

"Looks like we have…Republic ships swarming all over!" remarked Joker. "There are a couple space stations too—never seen that design before."

"So, knock on the door and see if they'll let us in" came the order.

"_SSV Normandy _hailing Republic command in this sector." Joker wasn't quite sure what to say since despite all the talk, they'd not been briefed on things as simple as Republic introductory procedures.

"Alliance vessel, _On Angel's Wings _Control responding. Please transmit IFF and Council security codes for approach."

The Republic security cordon prevented the _Normandy_ from making its usual approach to Hagalaz as the installation orbited quite far out. Traces of the battle were similarly unnoticed by the _Normandy_.

"Transmitting." Joker closed the channel, entered a few commands into the pilot haptic interface, and received an acknowledgement from EDI that "all necessary identification has been transmitted to Republic authorities."

"_SSV Normandy_, you are clear for approach to YQ9-Platform _Exploration I_. Here are docking coordinates. If your docking apparatus is incompatible, you may use a shuttlecraft and land in the station's main hanger."

"I wonder what Liara thinks of all this" mused Shepard. "She has to have noticed a bunch of people setting up shop in her backyard."


	17. Recovery

Athena ticked down a list of damage done by their stealthy Hyperion attackers.

- Anti-Aircraft Technical: _Destroyed  
__- _Lancer: _Heavily Damaged  
_- Supplies Lost…

"Shit" she sighed. That was going to be the kicker—a technical carrying hefty amounts of supplies (specifically _not_ ammunition to avoid spectacular explosions) had been reduced to rubble. Most of the medical supplies resided with Zed in a different truck; lost instead were water, food, and spare parts.

Sticking her head into the ambulance (where one of the technical drivers was being treated for a minor shrapnel wound), she inquired of Zed "How much water do humans need in a day?"

"Usually 2-3 liters will do it, but since we're in the middle of a freaking desert, probably more. I'd say five to be on the safe side."

"Well, we just lost 200 liters of water from the destruction of that gun truck, so how do we make do with needing 80 liters a day?"

"Damnit Athena, I'm a doctor, not a mathematician. You figure it out!" Turning back to his patient, "This is gonna hurt."

"YEEEEEEEEOWW!" Lieutenant Chacon screamed.

Quickly doing mental math, Athena figured they'd started with 500 liters of water (200 in a gun truck, 200 in another non-weaponized truck, and 100 in the ambulance). At 80 liters/day, there was almost a week's worth of water (if it was only used for drinking). Now, down 240 (thirsty Vault Hunters and their drivers sucked down 40 liters since leaving Sanctuary), a little over half the water remained.

_Still three days_ she thought. _Should be enough as long as we don't lose any other supply trucks_.

The food situation was better; knowing the difficulty of keeping food unspoiled most rations didn't require refrigeration. The few that did remained intact, and would be the last of the non-dehydrated meals. Similar to the water, so long as no additional vehicles were lost, food would hold out. Also destroyed were extra gun barrels (mostly for sniper rifles, rocket launchers, and Scorpios), the only extra Lancer shield generator, and an all-purpose toolkit.

Gaige knelt down next to Mordecai's Lancer. What remained of the Hyperion fighter's charred nose still poked through a mangled wheel as well as into the cabin.

"Uhh, yeah, do these things have spare tires? And…a couple of hours? Six hours?"

"Gaige, we don't have time for this. I know you can fix it" intoned Mordecai, his voice rising. "And I don't doubt you, but unless you can wave your hand and have that car fixed _now_, we gotta move!"

"You guys suck" Gaige sulked. "If I don't shoot, fix, or screw something soon…"

Athena put her arm around Gaige's drooping shoulders.

"Look, kid, if you want to help, see if you can salvage any of the Scorpio turret parts from the back of that wrecked truck. We could really use a second truck with an anti-aircraft gun."

Gaige suddenly perked up again. "I'm on it!"

"Oh, and while you're at it" continued Athena, "see if you can rescue the shield from Mordecai's Lancer!"

"So when are we gonna move again?" hollered Brick. "I feel like punching something!"

"See if you can punch your way into helping Gaige" drawled Lilith. "She needs the shield generator from Mordecai's Lancer—bet that armor would give you some glorious fisting action."

"This I gotta see!" piped up Salvador. "Huge guy versus the best armor on Pandora…"

Brick's massive fists slammed into the base of the shield mount again and again.

"Be careful!" snapped Athena. "You shatter the focus crystal, you'll have done all that for nothing!"

Gaige eagerly tugged on the shield module. It suddenly came loose, causing her to roll end-over-end, letting the module fly.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

VOOOOOOOOOOM.

Maya Phaselocked it, catching the precious equipment a foot from a sharp rock.

"Next time" she lectured, "watch what you're doing!"

Zed (not a real doctor, but as close as they had to one) leaned on his ambulance. "Well, if that's the only wound I have to treat today, I—"

"Don't say it." It was odd to hear Zer0 speak, even odder that it wasn't a haiku.

While Gaige worked on shoehorning the shield generator into Athena's Lancer, the others relaxed as much as they could given the circumstances. As a precaution, shields were activated on the two remaining Lancers and Axton shooed everyone under them, "just in case those bastards come back."

* * *

Fortunately for the Vault Hunters, Hyperion was out of "those bastards"—the Blackhawks were prototypes who were expected to utterly devastate the convoy. However, the ragtag bunch of weirdoes was not a primary concern—prepping E.G.O. was. Enough firepower surrounded the spaceport (which was the only possible place they could be heading, unless they planned to teleport into space) to stop a few APCs and trucks with guns.

Several galaxies away, Sam Shepard stepped into the reception area of platform _Exploration I_. The level of technology held by the Republic never ceased to amaze her. Despite the military origins of virtually all craft she'd been on, civilian amenities abounded. The power budgets for these installations must have been immense—along with however they dissipated waste heat. No one seemed to notice or care about an issue that plagued most ships Sam had set foot on.

A woman stepped out into Shepard's line of vision.

She wasn't conventionally attractive—at least not by society's standards, nor was she ugly. However, she gave off the distinct impression of being able to flip your table, kick your ass, steal your boyfriend, and leave without a smudge on her. Similar to the Alliance, it appeared the Republic didn't fuss much about hair length either, as this lady's reached her shoulders.

"Anna Erickson, commander of Task Force Guardian I. We were dispatched to deal with the batarians your Council spoke of. Grayson knew that determination alone wouldn't stop that dreadnought—it doesn't matter how strong your conviction is if your ship has been shot from around you."

She didn't mean to be insulting, she really didn't. There just wasn't really an elegant way to say "That would have been a suicide mission—and unlike the last one, you wouldn't have come back smelling like roses. If you came back at all, you'd be in a casket."

Shepard decided to stay cordial, despite the perhaps-unintentional insult.

"Samantha Shepard, Spectre."

"I hear the Spectres are some kind of extra-legal force. What's your chain of command?"

Sam thought before responding. _She seems like a by-the-book type, and by-the-book types don't like people who can use the rule book for toilet paper on the government's not-so-explicit-because-we-never-actually-told-you -to-do-that orders_.

"The Council can strip me of my Spectre authority. I actually hunted and killed a Spectre who'd gone rogue—Saren, I believe at least some of the story was included in a cultural exchange datastream."

"What stops you from just assassinating the Council?" Anna wanted to know how this Shepard reacted to questions that hit her very core. She'd read "The Shepard Files"—she knew what the woman before her had done. With the ability to do whatever she'd wanted, Sam Shepard shone as a bright beacon of hope to the whole galaxy, a hero never tarnished, a light that never dimmed.

The response came low and dangerous. "I'd die a thousand times before betraying the people of this galaxy. A real Spectre doesn't do it for the glory, the fame. Anyone who has to think about the answer to questions of betrayal isn't Spectre material."

Sam's eyes narrowed, daring her interrogator to ask another question.

Both women noticed a small crowd gathering at a distance. They'd both instinctively dropped into combat stances, fists tightening, arms primed.

Erickson recovered first. "We're on the same side. I like getting a measure of people I work with."

"So do you ask everyone questions like that?" Sam relaxed slightly.

"No one I've met has absolute authority. It's interesting; in our distant past governments empowered agents like Spectres. Inevitably, something would go wrong, and eventually no one wanted to work as a specially-empowered agent anymore because it meant choking on paperwork."

"Very funny." Shepard let a small smile show. "I've just gotten so good at it that I can do mission reports in my sleep."

Neither of them having eaten recently, the two stopped at a restaurant on the upper level of the station.

"You guys sure have some posh accommodations" remarked Sam. "We get rations."

"The Republic prides itself on civilian comforts with military discipline. Not to brag, but our civilization has existed in one form or another for millions of years. We've had plenty of practice." Anna bit into her Reuben.

"The Republic's humans are genetically identical to us. How is that? Humans have existed for that long?"

With a mouth full of food, the response was muffled. "What do I look like, an anthropologist? No one pays attention in Ancient History class!"

Erickson had been authorized to share what limited information the Republic had gleaned from a cursory examination of the batarian weapon.

"Here's a whole day's worth of scientific poking and prodding. The weapon appears to have a _living_ component combined with stolen technology from, the turians, I believe. They invented the Thanix Cannon, did they not?"

Shepard looked at the datapad while replying. "Yeah, it shoots liquid metal at close to the speed of light. What'd they do, dye the metal yellow?"

Anna chuckled. "Well, whatever they do with the organic portion that comes down-barrel from the original Thanix cannon turns the output yellow, yes. Whatever happens, it excites the stream of metal, transforming it into a form of matter we don't recognize."

"And that weird matter rips through your shields" finished Shepard.

"Yep! Well, it actually damages them, anyway."

"Unless there's anything else to see here, I should go. I have to visit a friend who lives in this system."

Anna mentally connected the dots. Maybe Shepard might know about the mysterious asari in sickbay.

"Is that friend an asari?"

Shepard's look was quizzical. "Why, yes. Have you met her?"

"Now that you mention it, I might have—seeing as there is an asari in our critical care ward who we found drifting in space here after fighting off batarians and Cerberus. I have no idea what they were after—but whatever it was, they certainly decided if they couldn't have it, no one could and destroyed it themselves after it became apparent neither of them could capture the starship intact."

Shepard inwardly sighed with relief. Liara's ship wasn't really meant for space travel.

"Whatever it was, what's left of it is still floating in very high orbit."

A gnawing feeling began to grow in Sam's stomach. _It's not Liara. It's NOT Liara!_

"Do you want to see her? We sent word to the Citadel, but nobody's claimed her yet."

"Sure, why not. Besides, we get to ride on the tram again!" Sam really, really hoped the dread was just paranoia.

Anna rolled her eyes. A grown woman, certified badass, who was amused by riding a tram? Really?

Unlike the ride she experienced on _Revenant_ (being the size of a small city), the ride to the critical care center was short despite the tram moving at something less than the speed of sound.

One, two, three, four sets of doors.

In the split second before it happened, Anna already knew.

She didn't cry, scream or run to her friend's bedside.

Like many other aspects of this galaxy's paragon, her reaction was much more understated.

Sam Shepard dropped to her knees, face in hands. From what Anna could see, a single tear had escaped. Knowing the diagnosis given by the best doctors on the station, she waited before saying anything.

After an eternity, Anna knew she had to speak up.

A hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

No response. No sounds aside from breathing.

"We don't know if she'll wake. We found her about a day ago after the battle, along with her friend and the shuttle they were in."

Anna could feel the shoulder shaking and hear faint crying. And the rest of the news would only make it worse.

"Did you know the drell?"

The smallest inclination of the head.

"You have my sympathies."

If it were possible for this woman to become any more deflated, she did.

"If it means anything, we recovered the shuttles—a whole line of them… The computer cores can be easily transferred to your ship."

Nod.

Erickson backed off a bit. Sensing Shepard wanted to be alone, she left.


	18. Advances

In less than an hour, Athena's Lancer had operational shields. Even Gaige couldn't make the shields work while underway, though—too high of a power draw. Sure, _technically_ the Lancers could move with their shields active, but someone could crawl faster than the Lancers at that speed, so it didn't really count.

Chacon ended being assigned to ride with Pilla after the destruction of her truck. Mordecai would join up with Brick.

A heated argument broke out before the convoy could get moving again about whether two Lancers should be in front or back.

"If we hit something the Lancers will absorb all the punishment" insisted Brick, slamming his fist into his hand.

"But what if something hits us?" countered Athena. "We can't take it from behind with only one Lancer—we'll get pounded before the rest of us can react!"

Several people sniggered to themselves—if Moxxi were here such innocent innuendos would not be allowed to pass unnoticed. At the current pace of things, the argument picked right back up.

"We put the gun truck at the rear, it'll more than cover for not having two Lancers back there!" exclaimed Axton.

"Yeah, and leave our last AA gun vulnerable?" snorted Mordecai.

"We've shot down flying stuff dozens of times" said Maya dismissively.

"We survived because of that AA gun, luck, and using a ton of rocket ammo we don't have anymore!" Mordecai was losing patience.

"Dude, just take a vote." Gaige's response perfectly fit the tone of "no duh" that children often use with adults when they think said adults are overlooking something very obvious.

In a small voice unusual for her, Lilith chimed in. "Gaige is right. All in favor…"

In the end, two APCs stayed up front, and the gun truck was moved to third from the back. Gaige wasn't able to create a workable turret from the three salvaged Scorpios in the time allowed for the stop, but enough materials were saved to possibly allow her to construct something as the journey continued.

The convoy would travel the rest of the way in darkness—90 hours day, 90 hours night. Nighttime travel demanded a decrease in travel speed to accommodate possible hazards that wouldn't be issues during the day. The last thing anyone needed was to get stuck in an unseen hole. Another debate broke out over headlights—ending in them remaining on at a lower intensity.

"We really couldn't have timed this worse" groused Salvador. "They're just going to see the big, brightly-lit, obvious column of vehicles!"

"We didn't have a choice if we wanted to catch that ship" sighed Mordecai.

Having circumnavigated the narrow gorge, the convoy continued north. The unnervingly empty settlements were growing larger, which had everyone on edge.

"Look at all these Dahl logos" mused Maya. "They really committed to this."

"And then things got tough, and they pulled out!" laughed Brick. "If we gave up as easily as they did, Jack would be terrorizing us with the Warrior today!"

"Good news, everyone—we're almost halfway there!"

It was the cheeriest anyone had heard Mordecai since the convoy left Sanctuary.

* * *

Cerberus scientists had just about given up on duplicating the Republic's weapons. Try as they might, efficiency eluded them, requiring vast scale-ups in size to net a miniscule increase in weapon power. Instead, focus turned to batarian weapon schematics. Though it was hoped to capture a working example, the dust-up with both batarians and Republic in the Hagalaz system dashed any chances of obtaining a functioning "lightning gun."

To add insult, Cerberus forces failed to capture any data from the reclusive Shadow Broker. Though it was known where the person calling him/herself Shadow Broker considered home, it was not known who or what s/he was. This fact irritated the Illusive Man—it was petty, he knew that—but he wanted to know who had been such a fickle friend to Cerberus for all these years.

Some consolation could be had from the destruction of the Broker's base-ship, which had pulled a spectacular jump to orbit before running headlong into design limitations—that is, not intended for spaceflight. Between the batarians and their own weapons, Cerberus had ensured, so they thought, that _no one_ would get any of the Broker's information.

Working with schematics lifted from Hegemony research stations, Cerberus personnel tried to coax the required organic lattice to grow. Small samples were simple, but quantities necessary to build a working copy of the Hegemony's weapon proved elusive. Of course, the fact that the batarians themselves weren't quite sure how the weapon worked added complications to matters. Rumor had it that smaller versions of the weapon now existed—rumors the Illusive Man poured resources into finding. Likely, the Shadow Broker could have gotten the information within weeks, but that avenue had become nonexistent.

Progress had occurred, mainly a discovery that equivalent weapons could be constructed using comparatively-minute lattices. Unfortunately, such a design would require a ship of immense length to fit the required barrel, something on the order of 3,000 meters or more. Even for Cerberus (leather seats, luxury captain's cabin, etc.) this was a bit impractical, if awesome.

Work continued round-the-clock, seven days a week. Cerberus _would_ outdo the aliens at their own game, no matter what it took.

* * *

Anna Erickson had no idea how many hours passed before she saw Sam Shepard again. When she did, something about Shepard had changed. Before, even against the threat of the alleged Reapers piled on top of all she'd done (successfully and not), she stood tall and unbent. This one incident brought her down farther than anyone could have imagined. It was as if the life had drained out and her consciousness replaced with an unfeeling artificial intelligence.

Still, she had to concede having Shepard walking among them as opposed to remaining in the critical care center was an improvement. It was just hard seeing someone suffer like this. Doctors from the Citadel were being called in, and Dr. Karin Chackwas (the _Normandy_'s physician) nearly tripped disembarking the ship in her rush to reach Liara when she was informed of the asari's present condition. Shepard accepted this news without comment or reaction.

Among the crew that had returned to the Normandy (surprisingly, all but Kasumi—who couldn't be found) for the trip to Hagalaz, spirited discussions were had about what they might do to snap their beloved Commander out of her funk.

* * *

As the convoy traveled further north, it became apparent as to why Dahl might have abandoned these settlements so quickly. Several Rakk Hive skeletons littered the landscape, with more in the distance. With these beasts around, who wouldn't turn tail and run?

"Those things travel in herds?" marveled Maya.

"Beats me" said Brick. "I only ever fought one—and I punched it so hard it exploded!"

Both Gaige and Krieg perked up noticeably after hearing this, the former abandoning her project of building a new turret temporarily. Krieg's fantasies regarding fighting/killing Rakk Hives were so revolting even Gaige's only response was "Dude. Ew."

"And this coming from the kid who doesn't have a problem with _brain_ on her shoes" added Axton. "That's some seriously messed up stuff, man."

Interestingly, the more Rakk Hives they passed, the fresher the dead monsters looked. At the beginning, it was a few bleached bones. A few kilometers later, there were more complete skeletons. Following that, one with actual flies buzzing on it.

"Uhh, guys…" Athena's voice crackled through the tactical comm. A rising chorus of (insane) voices could be heard from all directions.

"Time to play! Time to play!"

"Time to pound…some meat puppets!"

"Worm salad!"

"Psychos!" shouted Maya from her perch on the back of a technical. "Psychos everywhere!"

First to fire were the Lancers. Mordecai took the turret while Brick rammed everything in sight, cutting right to circle back toward the convoy's center. Another Psycho met his death on the front of the Lancer, splattering blood over the vehicle (and Mordecai, to his displeasure).

FWOOM. FWOOM. Mordecai held down the trigger for the main gun.

"—Sugar meals!" cried a dying Psycho as his flesh liquefied, turning blue before fizzling into nothing. Splashes from the Lancer guns hit other Psychos, wounding but not killing.

Axton cut left, a mirror image of Brick's maneuver. His tire met the head of a wounded bandit.

SPLAT.

TATATATATATATATATATATA! He tried to clear the area for the Vault Hunters riding in technical to get out of their trucks.

Maya spun her heavy quad turret around to fire at an armored Psycho charging into the clearing Axton made. CHACKACHACKACHACKA—spang! Scorpio rounds ricocheted off.

Zer0 aimed for the head but missed, hitting center-mass instead.

PWOP! PWOP! Ping! Ping!

"Useless attack / Need more special ammo / Must change mags"

Pulling back inside Zed's truck, Zer0 searched for elemental ammo.

Lilith leapt from her truck, landing easily in a kneeling fashion right in front of the armored Psycho.

CLAKCLAKCLAKCLAKCLAK—_hisssssssssss—_"Bury me upside-down!" The Psycho dissolved into a pool of green.

"Good shot, Lilith!" Even Brick knew that (rarely) punching things was not always the solution. Some enemies just needed a facefull of submachine-gun fire. Corrosive elemental addon optional. Or a handful of robot claws to the stomach (the fate of the Psycho Gaige's robot was currently fighting).

"Oooh. Right in the wingnut!"

Gaige's inaccurate, explosive pistol fire was hitting practically everything in sight, not just enemies.

"PUT THAT AWAY" roared Maya.

An urgent voice piped through the tactical comm. "Reload! Reload!"

Lancers generally had no ammunition problems on day-long patrols, but on a multi-day trek with several tough fights, the seemingly-limitless digi-drums feeding the forward machine gun could become depleted. Pilla's truck carried extra Lancer ammo, so he jumped into action. It took fifteen seconds to change the digitally-enhanced magazines, one per side.

Open the loading door. Twist counterclockwise to disengage. Pull toward the bottom of the drum. Remove the empty magazine. Reverse instructions to load new ammo drum.

Grabbing his radio, Pilla yelled "You're clear!"

Athena rammed her Lancer into reverse, pulled away from Pilla and returned to the fray. Pilla hopped back into his technical.

"Seriously, Brick, are you actually going to let me do any shooting?"

The Lancer shared by two of the original Vault Hunters threw its considerable weight around the battlefield, crushing anything in its path. Surprisingly maneuverable despite its (armor-enhanced) heft, it ran down Psychos with a vengeance. Brick's driving left a dizzy Mordecai barely able to get (slow-moving) shots off before the vehicle's direction would change yet again, causing the veteran sniper to miss wide on most shots.

Axton, not having to share his ride, parked, enabled the shield, and deployed his turret while he took up a seat in the APC's main gun.

"YOU get a bullet! And YOU get a bullet! EVERYBODY gets a bullet!"

In this case, it was just as likely to be a big blue ball of electrically-charged plasma energy as an actual bullet, but the principle remained the same: Walk close enough and Axton would _end you_.

The battle raged for over an hour. Empty casings ran like water, and barrels glowed red-hot. Zer0's rapid fire snap-shots actually overheated several of his rifles, warping their barrels ever so slightly—enough that continued fire would be hazardous.

Thus, Zer0 actually found himself wishing for an alternative to his favored sniper rifles.

Turning to Lilith, "I envy your sidearm / Unending breath of red fire / Turns psychos to burnt crisp."

Blowing smoke off the end of the barrel, Lilith struck a pose. "You want this?"

"Uhh, can I have both?"

Brick, as usual.

"We're going to have to start counting shots!" laughed Mordecai. "And digging through skag barf, since Psychos don't carry guns."

"So, yeah!" Gaige seemed exceptionally happy. "I made a three barreled Scorpio!"

Athena couldn't decide whether to applaud the kid's ingenuity or scream in frustration (since the estimated 875 rounds-per-minute was not going to help with the ammo issue).

Comprehension dawned on the faces of several Vault Hunters.

"It kills things faster and makes things explode!" exclaimed Salvador, hopping up and down (which given his height was more amusing than normal). "Can we make another?"

"Dude, we already have an issue with ammo!" replied Maya. "Unless you can pull ammo out of your ass, we can't just go watering every enemy we see."

"So that's what the weird humming noise was" added Lilith. "I thought it was some new form of buzzard."

Mordecai looked up. "Explains why several whole ammo crates are empty…"

"Well, I guess we can't complain" commented Axton. "It works, just mount it somewhere."

"I can totally carry it!" interjected Gaige.

"If you want to carry it, you'll have to be on anti-aircraft duty." Again, Athena didn't want to be unduly mean—but Gaige needed to understand the responsibility that came with her new toy.

"Fine…" She put the gun down and slouched off.

During the battle, two trucks lost tires to stray bullets. Unlike the last issue with vehicle damage, these parts were easily replaced, only adding a half-hour to the stop.

Ultimately, since no workable mounting point existed for Gaige's Gatling-Scorpio, it was hefted into the back of a technical.

The journey into the "Rakk Hive Fields," as they were now called, carried the Vault Hunters even closer to their goal. Only 50 kilometers remained to the starport, however running into Hyperion defenses long before that was a virtual certainty.

Not long after the 50 kilometer mark came the first Hyperion checkpoint.

"Everyone hide!" hissed Athena. "Especially you, Miss Blue Hair!"

Maya shot the trailing APC a distasteful look, though obviously Athena couldn't see the scowl.

"Wonder what the bandits are bringing this time?" said one guard to another.

"Probably more Eridium. That's all we pay them for anyhow."

Blood dripped off several vehicles, and the lieutenant swore he saw a chunk of human meat on one of the bumpers.

"Bandits!" barked the first soldier into his communicator. "State your cargo and destination!"

_Oh shit_, thought Brick. _This may be worse than trying to blast our way through. As soon as they figure out we're not bandits…_

"The blood bell tolls for thee! I fought the soul of darkness—AND I ATE IT!"

"Ooookay then." The Psychos were always babbling about some nonsense or other, whether it be planting people in the ground or making hammocks out of eyelids. "Whatever, just make sure to deliver your cargo _first_, go to the payment station _second_."

And he waved the convoy through.

"Did…we just fool Hyperion because Krieg won't shut up?" asked Brick. Mordecai stood similarly baffled, but neither would complain. "They must not be able to tell one insane voice from another. Morons."

Unbeknownst to the Vault Hunters, their Lancers matched the required IFFs for Hyperion base access (Hyperion lazily re-appropriated as much Atlas equipment as possible—including security codes), which allowed those in the APCs to avoid questioning.

"What's that convoy _actually _supposed to be carrying?" questioned the second soldier to his superior as the convoy disappeared into the distance.

"Parts and technical crew for the moon base, likely" replied the lieutenant. "I'm going to radio ahead and have that convoy checked. Came in three hours early… The bandits are never early!"

"Well, at least we don't have to look" replied the private. "I hate checking vehicles with Psychos—always smells like butts and dead people."


	19. Retreats

If anything, all attempts to drag Samantha Shepard back from the brink only pushed her closer as she retreated from the outside world. The formerly sociable Commander (who played poker with the staff in the engine room, helped the mess hall chief with his recipes, and even had a cook-off with James Vega) disappeared into her quarters for hours on end.

Nobody knew what she was doing, and she certainly wouldn't tell.

Since the signing of the Status of Forces Agreement, Republic personnel were turned loose for leave on the Citadel. Limited tourism _from_ the Citadel was permitted into the "civilian" areas of _Revenant_.

During the most recent Council meeting, Sparatus in particular expressed confusion over the actions of the Republic humans.

"Why would they invite anybody, especially civilians, to visit their most powerful ship?"

Tevos thought for a moment. "It is likely this serves as a form of cultural exchange. It is easy to judge a group solely on its leaders, when the individuals making up the group may have a variety of outlooks."

"The Republic probably does not consider us a threat" continued Valern, in the usual clipped, precise tones of a salarian. "After all" (at this his voice lowered and his eyes dropped), "they did make a rather embarrassing catch of STG operatives attempting to infiltrate one of their ships."

This angered the remaining Council members—the salarian government had no business conducting subterfuge against a declared ally.

"Why would your government do this?" Anderson was shocked—usually, provocative actions were the turian role.

"I'll have you know these efforts were conducted before any treaty was signed!"

Valern's voice sped up.

"We had no idea who or what we were facing. You'd be interested to know we've done the same to any race seeking Council membership or a Citadel embassy—any politician can put on a mask of peace and cooperation while hiding a populace bearing ill will."

A _very_ awkward silence followed.

"For the record, our agents found nothing of note. Humiliatingly, they were captured before even figuring out how to interface with the Republic's computers."

Tevos' tone was even, unemotional. "I find it surprising that this went unmentioned in our negotiations. Military spying is generally not conducive to improving or starting relations with a new species."

"They are not a new species!" snapped Sparatus, mandibles flaring. "We've already established these are baseline humans, no different than the Systems Alliance!"

"None of us are denying that fact" responded Tevos. "I simply meant that when encountering a previously-unmet government, it is generally considered rude to spy on them."

"This does raise an interesting question" cut in Councilor Anderson. "I can honestly say that neither myself nor anyone in the Systems Alliance government are aware of any extra-galactic colonization from Earth."

"We all know the what, the key question is the why" answered Valern. "Computer, secure this room, Valern-two-zeta-three-three-six."

The massive windows behind the Council were covered by sliding armor plate. An upgrade after the attack by Sovereign, these Silaris-based panels both prevented physical spying and would stop most known weapons. The same material layered atop the existing blast doors, sealing all entryways.

A slight hiss meant the multispectral random noise generator had activated—it was intended to confuse audio, video, and any other sensory pickups should any bugs be present.

"Computer, halt recording, authorization Valern-two-zeta-three-three-six."

"Councilor Tevos confirms, authorization Tevos-seven-alpha-nine-beta-one."

"Councilor Sparatus confirms, authorization Sparatas-delta-six-theta-zero-zero."

"Councilor Anderson notes an objection to the ridiculousness of retreating into secrecy to discuss something that has so little impact on this galaxy as to not matter, however, authorization confirmed with reservation—Anderson-gamma-seven-alpha-eight-one." 

"We all know what the topic of this discussion is. However" noted Valern "We have never had this level of information on this topic before."

"Anderson, if you bring up those godforsaken Reapers again…"

"Sparatus!" Tevos raising her voice was unusual—and meant someone had really, really stepped out of line.

"The existence of humans, specifically humans that exactly match those already living in this galaxy, calls much of what we thought we knew into question" she continued. "Though we were all aware of the Federated Cluster Union and the Local Cluster Council, we had never sustained diplomatic relations with either—or met anyone beyond the Cluster Council."

"The representative from the Cluster Council was not revealed to us," added Valern. "Whatever it was, its voice and image were both distorted whenever we communicated—which was rare in the first place."

"Let us remind ourselves of the one time the Local Cluster Council chose to communicate with us" began Anderson.

"We know!" hissed Sparatus. "This Cluster Council supports the ridiculous idea that there are sentient starships waiting out beyond the galactic rim!"

"Recall the reason the Local Cluster Council and Federated Cluster Union exist, as strained as it may sound" cautioned Tevos. "Their purpose is to prevent devastating inter-galactic scale conflicts. If the Reapers are a real threat, they would have every reason to intervene."

"Intervene with what?" spat Sparatus. "I've never heard of nor seen any 'Local Cluster military' or 'Federated Union Navy'—how could they possibly intervene when there's no evidence they have anything to intervene with? This is entirely ridiculous!"

Valern turned to Sparatus and addressed him directly. "Councilor, while we do not deign to accept the Reaper theory without reservation, the rest of this Council does believe that it merits some investigation. What proof do you require to consider the theory?"

Sparatus did not see _any_ of this coming. His fellow Councilors were willing to not only accept the word of a human (who he did harbor resentment against—this was no secret), but also waste Council time investigating claims based on visions and a conveniently-destroyed Collector base? Absurd!

"You were intrigued by Republic sensor technology, were you not?" probed Tevos.

"What? How is this germane to the topic at hand?" demanded Sparatus.

"Answer the question please." Valern neither raised his voice nor betrayed any hint of irritation.

"They are the most powerful sensors turian military science has ever seen. They are superluminal, maintain high resolutions at extreme distances, and have an exceptional ability to discern the weakest signals through heavy interference. With the ability to analyze and correct mistakes made by other sensors through exhaustive re-analysis of raw sensor data, their abilities are borderline supernatural. No situation we can come up with would result in an error from these sensors. They either get the right reading or nothing at all!"

"Then you'll be interested in the Republic's official analysis of Shepard's sensor data—it only just arrived yesterday."

Anderson had a hard time keeping the triumph from showing on his face. Let Sparatus twist himself into a political pretzel—let's see how he got out of this one. Though he respected his fellow Councilor (as much as the law and custom required), Sparatus' increasingly anti-Shepard behavior had unnerved Anderson. Having spoken in private to the other Councilors, he discovered they, too, questioned why Sparatus would be so consumed by so small a thing.

What was even more amusing to Anderson was watching Sparatus squirm. As much as the facial plates of a turian could show expressions common to humans, he displayed shock, surprise, dismay, and finally anger. Anderson was not one for schadenfreude, except for people whose deliberate ignorance of reality placed the entirety of civilization in danger. There was that exception that his fellow Council member fell straight into.

"I…this…it's impossible!" he spluttered. "Shepard was sent with the understanding that this…_theory_ of hers would never come up!"

"That wouldn't be the first time a Spectre disobeyed a direct order from the Council for the greater good. Or has Tela Vasir faded from memory?" Valern intended this to be a neutral question, but in context it sounded as if he were taking sides.

Anderson added "The Councilor just stated his complete faith in Republic sensor technology—or does that only extend to items of which the Councilor personally approves?"

"Anderson!" His mocking snark drew the same rebuke from Tevos that Sparatus' earlier comment about Reapers did.

Sparatus knew he would not win this argument. Trapped by his own words, he would either have to accept the Reapers were not some geth construct or begin to question the Republic. The Republic whose technology made fools out of the Special Tasks Group. Rumor had it the Republic was also sitting on a genophage cure—that would certainly spark some controversy. Yes, with a handful of genetic samples, the Republic may have whipped up an antidote to a bio-weapon that took combined salarian and turian military science _years_ to design, in a matter of weeks.

The other Councilors gave Sparatus time to digest his defeat. He could just imagine Shepard now—"Reapers!"

When Sparatus spoke again, it was a totally different turian whose voice filled the chamber—one who had just experienced a brush with the greatest depths of humility.

"I have dishonored myself, this Council, and my species by allowing my personal beliefs and petty grudges to stand in the way of my sacred duty to this body. Effective immediately, I resign from this Council."

Sparatus' departure was, in the words of one human ambassador, a "political shitstorm."

No Council member had resigned in anything approaching recent times. Thus, the shockwave from this radical move reverberated throughout the galaxy, reflected and magnified again and again by a scandal-hungry news media.

To top it all, Sparatus gave his first interview post-Council to the hacktivist muckracker Eddie Snowman, snubbing established, respected figures such as Emily Wong (or her bitter rival, Diana Allers).

In strident, serious tones, he implored the galaxy to prepare in the face of the greatest threat civilization would ever see. He walked back each and every denigration regarding Shepard (except for the one about Shepard and the fish tanks in an exclusive restaurant). If he thought this would clean all the mud he'd slung at Shepard off, he had another thing coming.

The remaining Council was having quite a difficult time deciding how to react to this latest development. Though the three agreed that "something had to be done," that was pretty much the extent of it. What that "something" would be placed each Councilor on his/her own. In an unusual inversion of the usual roles, Tevos favored gathering additional information about the Reapers—aggressively if necessary—with the aid of the Republic. Valern proposed updating the Status of Forces Agreement to more specifically bind the two powers militarily—such that any attacks against the Council races by "extra-galactic aggressors" would draw the Republic in without having to directly ask for any kind of assistance. Anderson supported a hybrid approach—more information, but aggressive anti-Reaper patrols, plus an expanded Status of Forces Agreement that would enable limited scientific co-development.

Despite these bold plans, the Council retreated to the default—nothing—when no mutually acceptable solution could be reached.

* * *

The Psycho Delivery Service ruse would have to give out sometime—and when it did, the result was quite spectacular. No longer confined to traveling in a line (or having to protect supply vehicles), the Sanctuary convoy advanced in a triangle formation: three Lancers in front, the single remaining gun-truck in the middle, and the four unarmed technicals in the back.

"Freeze."

A very badass-looking Hyperion WAR Loader now hovered in midair.

PZAP! PZAP! PZAP! Three rounds from Zer0's Hybridification sniper rifle pieced the Loader's armor, ricocheting and killing three Hyperion combat engineers. Zer0 didn't pause to reload as he tumbled from Zed's ambulance and climbed onto its top.

CHACHACHACHACHACHACHA—"SCREW YOU FREUD!"—CHACHACHA-BLAM-BLAM-CHACHACHACHA-BLAM-BLAM -BLAM.

Dual-wielding an assault rifle with an explosive shotgun, Salvador let the hovering Loader have it from both hands. A weapon-arm, now useless, dropped to the ground.

"_Repairs needed_."

Two heavily reinforced Surveyors buzzed onto the scene, bathing the damaged WAR Loader in repair beams.

"I don't think so." Maya turned her quad Scorpio toward the floating mechanical medics.

CHACKACHACKACHACKA—Beooop… CHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKACHACKA—Breeeet!

"Get 'em, boy!" Deathtrap's claws shredded the bodies of Hyperion personnel and ripped through armor. Several Hyperion soldiers made the mistake of turning corrosive weapons against Deathtrap, hoping to bring down the armored nightmare. Much to their unpleasant surprise, when the robot's claws slashed through their torsos, they found their flesh beginning to corrode.

Axton reprised his role from the previous battle: turret-camper extraordinaire. "Meet the missus!" he bellowed, tossing dual Sabre turrets before climbing into the gun mount of his Lancer.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF! A loud hiss accompanied the twin Sabre rocket barrage. However, like the Vault Hunters, some Hyperion defenders realized that the best solution to a rocket horde was a lead wall. Desperate submachine gun fire took down half the rockets before they reached the next sandbagged position. That wasn't enough, as the remaining ordinance set off several nearby explosive barrels.

"Who the hell leaves explosive fuel around in barrels? Whatever, bigger explosions for me!" Axton had actually gotten into a debate with Maya about the random elementally-charged barrels often found lying around in the most seemingly random places. They came to the conclusion that while there existed zero rationale for the existence of these barrels, using them in a firefight was completely fair game.

"PUT MY PAIN INTO YOUR SOUL! Use your ribcage for a HAT!" Krieg charged around the battlefield, introducing his spinning buzzaxe into anyone or anything unfortunate enough to be in his path. Blood sprayed from severed limbs as the rampaging circus of destruction moved to the heart of Hyperion-town. Lost in his bloodrage as he cut the arm off a SGT Loader, Krieg tried to drink its blood—only to get a mouthful of oil and lubricants instead.

"Slaughter the false gods, drink their BLOOD!"

Mordecai abandoned Brick's Lancer as soon as the fight started. Standing back-to-back with Zer0 on the top of Zed's truck, the two snipers picked off enemies with frightening precision.

Three massive red laser beams appeared, and began sweeping the field. The newly-arrived trio of Super-Constructors emitting them cared not whether they sliced Hyperion or Vault Hunter—everything _not_ a Constructor in the area needed to die. Immediately.

Until the appearance of the three-story Super-Constructors, Hyperion forces had been in a continuous retreat. The Constructors backstopped the remaining forces, making the battle a short distance from the main landing pad a stalemate.

"It's a badass!" cried Maya.

"I've never seen Constructors this big" yelled Brick. "_And I like it!_"

A Constructor laser sliced through one of the technicals horizontally, including (presumably) its driver. The top half of the truck slide sideways, tilting off and falling onto the ground.

"**HEAT SEEKERS**."

The triple-Constructor missile barrage made dual Sabres look slightly tame.

Shields imploded, armor failed, and the Vault Hunter advance stopped in its tracks. Two missiles struck Brick's Lancer, destroying its powerplant and forcing him to abandon it.

"Time to PUNCH!"

Lilith threw up a terrific barrage of submachine-gun bullets with a pair of HellFires. Some of the missiles blew up, but not enough. The explosive rain destroyed two more technicals, burning them to husks and tossed Lilith like a ragdoll.

"We need bigger guns" gasped Mordecai. Even a pair of Maliwan Corrosive launchers ("HAHAHAHAHA YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!") failed to impact the building-size monstrosities parked outside the Hyperion spaceport.

Ears ringing and vision blurry, Lilith staggered to her feet. "Get it together" she berated herself. About to Phasewalk, the charred corner of a large chest caught her eye.

Struggling to free it from the remains of the technical it had been carried in, she cried out to her fellow warriors for assistance.

"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Brick yanked the chest free of its metal prison.

Painted on the side, in big childlike handwriting: If you need a really big boom – Tina"

"**CHARGIN' MY LASER**"

Another dose of death-rays. Cover was becoming more scarce from the battle wrecking anything standing higher than a meter—Krieg rolled, Maya jumped, and Athena (still in her Lancer) swerved to avoid red-hot life-extinguishing beams headed their way.

The chest hissed and opened.

Inside, a single rocket launcher—one so large Brick couldn't believe it fit in the chest to begin with. Clear tubing wrapped around the back portion of the weapon—extending straight along the barrel toward the front, passing through a few opaque parts that seemed to attach the tubing to the case. Whatever liquid was _inside_ the tubing glowed an electric blue—a marbled mixture of several tones (lighter, darker and white). A third of the way from the back of the imposing device, a sphere wrapped around the entire assembly. The tubing passed through this shape, becoming larger afterward. Wires were visible everywhere, many taped together or crudely twisted. Equally-spaced cylinders protruded from the barrel in front of the sphere—these seemed to contain more of the mysterious material from the tubing.

The very front of the barrel had a triangle painted on—the point ended at the tip of the weapon. "AIM THIS WAY" stenciled on underneath the shape.

Mordecai's voice cut into Lilith and Brick's admiration of…whatever it was.

"STOP STARING AND USE IT!" he bellowed.

Brick picked up the massive launcher, steadying the back on his shoulder and grasping the Y-shaped two-hand front grip.

"Yo yo yo!"

A tinny impression of Tina's voice emanated from the launcher, which suddenly vibrated and hummed, becoming much lighter on Brick's shoulder. He could feel the front of the weapon pushing upward against his hands.

"This baby needs…_SIREN POWER!_ So if you aren't Lilith or Maya, you got no bizness with this badonkadonk!"

"Since when do weapons care who uses them?" fumed Brick.

Lilith smirked. "Hand it over, big boy."

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING? HAVING A TEA PARTY?" Salvador's still-firing assault rifles stabbed forward as he yelled, shredding a Hyperion GUN loader in the process.

Brick attempted to hand the launcher over. It was more accurate to say that he stepped out from underneath it, swapping places with the Siren. The launcher settled on her shoulder.

The weapon "spoke" again. "For an extra big boom, add some Eridium!"

"We. Don't. Have. Eridium." Why couldn't this weapon just work?

"Just kidding, that would melt yo face off. Bye now!"

A low hum/buzz emanated from Tina's Frankenweapon. The sound grew in volume, the launcher began to glow, and Lilith's feet left the ground. Lilith became a blinding source of purple-blue light…and then the launcher fired. Or, more accurately, the launcher ripped free of her hands as it fired itself, riding a brilliant purple flame as it streaked toward the trio of Super Constructors barring the Vault Hunters' progress.

Lilith dusted herself off. "I can't believe Tina would use a Tediore as a starting point."

BUH-VOOOOM.

A massive, deep-sounding, reverberating explosion the color of night created an expanding sphere that pulled everything within it to its center while creating a massive repulsive force pushing everything _outside _away.

Another detonation, and no time for anyone's ears to stop ringing—several octaves below the last ripped apart everything that had been pulled in, depositing warped metal, burned armor, and gore all over its blast radius.

No one was sure how long the party stayed down, waiting for throbbing headaches/earaches induced by Tina's one-of-a-kind device to dissipate. It didn't seem to leave anyone open to attack either, as no local Hyperion forces appeared to be left standing.

Salvador recovered first. He stood and looked around the wasteland on which a titanic struggle had taken place. Bodies and robot parts littered the area. Spent casings, empty guns, ammo crates, used quick-meds… Oh, and bodies. The blackened hulks of the three Super Constructors sat in the middle of it all—like the center of some horrible flower. "Whoa. That was one hell of a thing."

Maya stood up next to him. "You? Speaking quietly? That's a new record."

The gruff reply: "When something is this awesome, you gotta show it proper respect."

Athena, as usual, conducted the post-battle damage assessment. "Another Lancer lost, another truck destroyed, which means we…"

Gaige interrupted her. "Dude, the landing pad is right…"

She stopped.

It didn't take a genius to see why. Though Tina's super-rocket had wasted the Super Constructors (and, really, all Hyperion forces in the area), it also turned their only means of space travel into a charred wreck.

To the uninitiated, the next few minutes might have seemed a contest to see who could curse the most, loudest, and come up with the most creative word combinations. It made the Vault Hunters slightly angry that their salvation had also been their destruction. Headaches didn't help.

"So what do we do now?"

Mordecai resigned himself to the idea that this whole enterprise might have been for naught.

The nearest spaceport to _this_ spaceport was too far to even contemplate driving—it would be only a bit of a stretch to say the Hyperion ship would have already reached its destination by the time the badly-battered convoy reached the nearest place with a starship.

In anger, Lilith kicked a nearby crate. Something cracked, and it wasn't the crate.

Howling with pain, Lilith hopped around on one leg.

"Is that Eridium?" Mordecai peeked into the crate Lilith had "damned to a fiery nonexistence."

Ignoring the bouncing, yelling Siren, the remaining Vault Hunters clustered around for a better look.

"It's…pink?" Maya tilted her head quizzically. "It sure _looks_ like Eridium, except it's the wrong color."

"Cool!" Gaige stuck her hand in to grab a stack of the mysterious glowing stone. Lifting it took more effort than she thought it would. "Urrrrggh!" She switched to her mechanical arm, easily hefting a stack of four pieces.

"This stuff is heavy!" Gaige dropped the pink rectangle on the ground.

"Uhh guys, I hate to be a downer, but does anyone care that I think I broke my foot?" Lilith grimaced at her companions.

Ignoring any mention of medical issues, Salvador cut right to the chase. "See this pink stuff? Looks like Eridium. What do you think of it?"


	20. Surprise!

Roughly a month had elapsed since the Trans-Galactic Republic's fleet arrived in a galaxy full of mass relays. Various barriers to mutual understanding had been surmounted, and the Republic got along well with the natives (for the most part). Cultural exchanges ended up permitting many citizens to interact with the newcomers up close and personal.

The resignation of the turian Council member was the biggest news since the arrival of the Republic. Sparatus' insistence that the Reapers were real (as opposed to a claim the Council dismissed out of hand) soon after his resignation trumped his departure from the Council, kicking the former top story off the news cycle in less than 24 hours.

While the Turian Hierarchy attempted to select a new counselor, the rest of the galaxy marveled at Republic technology. Republic Battle Groups (three _Curators_ each) toured the homeworlds of many races, both Citadel and non-Citadel.

In a surprise move, the Republic opened negotiations with the quarians for technological transfer first, ahead of all Council/Citadel peoples. Reasoning that the quarians were a "humble" and "studious" race, the Republic's initial assistance came in the form of medical research. Documents leaked from internal Republic deliberations (doubtlessly "liberated" by one Mr. Snowman, though not through technological means) revealed analyst comments that the turians were "arrogant," asari were "self-righteous," salarians "sneaky," drell "thralls," krogan "walking sharks," volus "sleazy," batarians "insane," vorcha "primitive," and humans "backward." Hanar? "Big stupid jellyfish." No comment was made regarding the geth.

The usually press-happy Grayson disappeared, referring all questions to his harried aides. His command ship, _Revenant_, remained stationed near the Citadel—and while cultural visits were still permitted, the Admiral himself ceased to appear at social functions.

Despite Council deadlock, Republic ships were deployed in groups of three for a total of nine groups. There remained two floating individual ships usually assigned to _Revenant_ and five in the battle group protecting the research facility exempt from patrols. Republic forces made proper use of mass relays now, cutting inter-system travel time drastically. Combine nearly-instantaneous transport over long distances with insanely fast FTL drives, and the Republic could practically be anywhere on a moment's notice. No non-Reaper ship in the galaxy attained speeds close to the Republic's fastest drives—some 20,000_c_ on small craft (14,000_c_ for the mighty _Curator_ battleships).

As a result of Snowman's revelations, a few star systems asked the Republic's wandering patrol fleets to stay away. However, most citizens could have cared less what a few uptight analysts had to say about their galaxy—they welcomed the new arrivals with open arms.

Samantha Shepard's mood remained stubbornly unchanging, and thus she was placed on medical leave (at least as far as operating on behalf of the Alliance was concerned). Though intense meditation with the asari justicar Samara had improved her outlook slightly, she remained a ghost of her former self. Liara's condition had not changed—she remained in a deep coma, unlikely to wake.

The Republic's arrival pushed all thoughts of Reapers to the back burner, or off the stove entirely.

* * *

"Looks like Eridium to me." Lilith touched her hand to the pink stone.

Remembering what happened while held prisoner, she suspected at a minimum this odd-colored element might fix her foot if it was anything like actual Eridium. Feeling the power flowing through her arm, Lilith felt the bones in her foot knit up and reconnect in seconds.

"Yep, it's something like Eridium—my foot's not broken anymore!" Lilith imitated her previous antics by hopping on one foot, except this time she used the formerly-broken limb.

Axton sidled up to the crowd. "You know, this gives me an idea…"

Maya cut in "…remember that time in the Firehawk's lair…"

Salvador "…WHEN YOU TELEPORTED US TEN FEET…"

Zer0 "Teleportation / May solve the present situation / More than ten feet, please."

"I don't like using this stuff—it's still the tits, but I don't want to become dependent on it…" Lilith's voice trailed off.

"Now I know you probably think we sound like drug dealers because we're all going to say 'One more can't hurt,' but you're the only way we have to get to the station" finished Athena. This was the first time any Vault Hunter heard Athena display a sense of humor. Or seen her smile.

"If Hyperion gets that ship away, who knows what they might do?" added Axton. "We swore to bring Jack down, and these new Jackholes are…not very different than the guy we just killed. With his own weapons, I might add!"

"PEER PRESSURE!" roared Salvador.

VWOOOM. "You know you want to." Maya levitated the pink rock near Lilith's head.

Gaige spoke up. "We do have those plans for the space station we, ahem, acquired from that Hyperion spy." She produced the digital plans. "There's a small hanger just below the main docking port. We could sneak in there if you can teleport us that far."

"I have no idea how much of this stuff I need" huffed Lilith. "But I'm guessing one isn't going to be enough. Get me more!"

The stack became three-high.

"Let's phase!"

* * *

The Illusive Man was not religious, but he did believe in luck. Cerberus had quite the run with luck lately—able to acquire schematics for the smaller batarian lightning weapon through some tricky subterfuge, its scientists worked round-the-clock to create a Cerberus version. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, the creation of smaller lightning guns relied nearly entirely on chance—as the required density of the crystal lattice for miniature lightning guns was a rare mutation whose prevalence the batarians had not figured out how to enhance. As a result, the batarian solution had been to create vast "gardens" of the material, and search out patches meeting the necessary criteria.

Cerberus took the idea and ran with it, devoting vast spaces within its facilities to the cultivation of a single item. Special growing conditions were warranted—entire buildings (indeed, entire sections of planets) were demolished to create "crystal farms." Though the structures occurred naturally inside Leviathans, they did not grow on nearly the required scale (hence artificial methods). Using the high-density lattices in larger guns also resulted in them shattering—no shortcut for that!

In the month or so since Republic arrival, Cerberus advanced its science by at least several thousand years, if not more (without technology agreements or spying on the Republic itself). Unfortunately, _understanding_ something was a far cry from producing it efficiently on a large scale.

* * *

From the bridge of _Majesty of Autumn_, Kim Harrison kept meticulous watch considering how uneventful most Republic patrols in "the new galaxy" were. Despite it only being the night shift (which she found herself a regular on), she was determined to prove herself. Having far more experience and know-how than the typical ensign operations officer, Harrison often wondered why she had not been promoted. Especially since "the night shift" in these Battle Groups meant de-facto command of not one, but three ships (her own, _Liberty Through Truth_, and _Nebula Angel_). Three ships with enough power to reduce the surface of a planet to molten glass in short order.

In the Republic military, the night-shift crew carried the same authority as their day-shift counterparts, which meant temporary promotions (based, essentially on the chronometer) for all—including being addressed at the higher rank.

"Captain, we have a sensor anomaly."

_Finally, something interesting! …and I'm a bad person._

"Sensors indicate the object is metallic. We're not able to get a firm reading at this distance—but whatever it is appears to be big. Let's go see what it is!"

Ryan Jerrison seemed to alternate between buttoned-down military and a kid in a science museum. "Yes, we should follow this procedure—and afterward, play with lasers!"

"That is standard procedure" replied the acting-Captain. "Helm, turn us about and give me full sublight. Signal the fleet to follow us."

"Aye aye Captain."

Jerrison watched Jane Starsway enter coordinates a couple million kilometers away and wondered how he'd ended up among the Amazon Brigade. He was the only man on the bridge. That said, the Republic did have an unusually high number of women in command positions compared to many other contemporary governments, and also boasted greater participation at all levels of the military from women as well—so their presence (in large numbers) made sense.

The three ships' ion drives spooled up and began pushing the metal mountains toward the latest disturbance. Most of the time, lightly-inhabited (or uninhabited) systems contained a few sensor reflections, dead asteroids, and if you were lucky, an interesting nebula. "Interesting," as in an unusual hue. Not one of those weird ones that drained shields, disabled sensors, caused the crew to go mad, or similar—just pretty colors.

"Magnify forward viewer." Harrison stood tall, regulation-flouting hair past her shoulders. She didn't even know the point of having rules if they were routinely ignored (as some official parts of the Republic's military code were). Nevertheless, she wasn't one to complain when stipulations were ignored in ways that benefitted her without causing undue harm.

Whatever they were looking at appeared matte-black. It took the shape of some kind of seagoing animal—a mollusk in the old classification system. With a long body stretching out behind a "face"-full of tentacles, the ship (was it a ship?) matched no configuration in the usual Republic databases.

"Captain?" An inquiry from what usually passed as her own station—Operations. "This ship appears to resemble the 'Reapers' we were briefed about."

Kim had to contain her excitement (which made her feel shame again—galaxy-destroying abominations appear and she felt happiness because it made her less bored). If this was a Reaper, she would be the first to encounter them! Grayson had dispatched the fleets with instructions to stop any Reapers found—declaring the entire galaxy to be under Republic protection.

Whatever it was, no answers were offered to repeated hails. Instead, its "tentacles" shifted, and bright red beams lanced out.

_Shit._

"Shields!"

Thankfully, the days of waiting for shields to charge/activate were only discussed in history books. Still, a few scorch marks on _Liberty_'s freshly-painted hull were going to be an embarrassment to explain.

She could swear there was a faint buzzing in her head—like a fly loose in her brain. Pushing the annoyance aside, Acting-Captain Kim Harrison ordered return fire.

"I advise attempting to capture the vessel for study" intoned her weapons officer in a flat voice. "We would learn much—"

A green blaster bolt crossed the bridge—and hard look appeared on Harrison's face as the weapons officer slumped, stunned.

"Bridge to medical, one of my officers is showing signs of the 'indoctrination' we were warned about. Recommendations to counter?"

"Stay away from the Reaper!" came the extremely helpful advice. "We're still working on a shield modulation to block the transmission of the indoctrination signal."

Harrison punched up a channel to the other two ships. "This is Harrison. Put at least 1,000km between yourselves and that ship! Your crew will begin to indoctrinate if you don't!"

Already, _Majesty of Autumn_'s engines lit, pushing it to a safe distance some 1,250km away.

"Now, let's send that mind-warping monster packing!"

* * *

It just so happened that most Siren powers caused a lot of noise when in use—and over the roar of growing energy summoned by Lilith, she shouted "I hope I can get us in a logical spot that isn't, you know, full of bad guys!"

The entire team glowed a very intense color of pink before disappearing from the surface of Pandora…

…and rematerializing in a cargo bay full of boxes with a bang.

"Could you have made the teleportation any louder?" Salvador or Axton, couldn't tell which.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you want filet minion on your flight?" came the reply.

"Shh!" hissed Athena. "We don't know if there are security cameras in here!"

"Thank you Captain Obvious" snorted Brick. "None of us have ever had to sneak into a heavily guarded installation before."

After Maya pointed out that Brick tended to just punch his way in with no pretense of stealth, Mordecai firmly re-directed the group's energy toward the mission at hand.

"Alright people, we need to find that ship, sneak aboard, and…did anyone bring rakkahol? You know, for the trip?"

This was met with eyerolling.

"The worst part" he continued, "is that being seen may cause Hyperion to abort the launch—or even turn around mid-trip. You never know with these guys—and they've learned quite a bit about what loose Vault Hunters can do."

"So, charge in and take the ship for ourselves" responded Lilith, as if it were the most obvious idea in the world.

"Never took you for a crack star pilot Lilly."

The battle on Pandora's surface was a cakewalk by comparison. After much blood, sweat, cursing, and near-misses, the Vault Hunters stormed the ship, sliced the docking tubes, and took to the empty bridge. The vessel was apparently rigged to be mostly automated.

"Get us out of here, NOW!" bellowed Mordecai.

"Everybody better buckle up, cause this is gonna be AWESOME!" came Gaige's way-too-excited reply.

"Systems secure" reported Athena. "The Hyperion personnel and bot auto-wake sequences are disabled."

Coolant coursed through the outer shells of the ship's solid-fuel boosters as they prepped for ignition. Coolant that was supposed to be keeping the H-1 base's reactor within safe temperatures…

"Rerouting the coolant was a bit of genius."

"What was that, Mordecai? You don't sound impressed!" Gaige was incredibly proud of herself. "And LAUNCH!"

Support structures broke away as the ship, now christened _Roland_, began to separate from the orbital moonbase. Boosters fired, igniting the solid Eridium fuel. These boosters, cooled with Eridium slag, would get the ship most of the way to superluminal velocities before the main drive came online.

Hyperion ships moved to cut off the stolen vessel. However, they found themselves facing formidable defenses designed to ward off spacegoing Vault Hunters—in other words, not anything a few Hyperion pickets could handle. Nevertheless, the patrol ships pressed the attack, resulting in an utterly one-sided slaughter. Not a scratch on the _Roland_, and five smoldering hulks tumbling toward incineration in Pandora's atmosphere.

Lilith's enthusiastic voice cut in over the vibration-induced noise of the boost phase. "If we dump the, ahem, extra cargo, before we go superlight we'd reduce our travel time by half!"

Several party members shifted uncomfortably.

Lilith didn't back down. "Hey, I'd drop any of these jackholes on the open field of battle—and they'd do the same right back to me. Dump 'em!"

"Whatever you do, you have fifteen minutes to decide while the ship accelerates to superlight" intoned Athena.

"Loaders are robots / I feel no shame spacing them / Destroy Hyperion's toys."

Axton activated a map of the ship's internal layout. "Looks like most of the Loaders are stored above the cryo-chambers. Can't jettison the 'bots without dropping the cryo-pods as well."

"This is an obnoxious moral dilemma" opined Athena. "Technically, ejecting those pods would qualify as a war crime."

"And setting them on fire, electrocuting them, dousing them in acid, setting off slag barrels next to them, or crushing them with extra-dimensional powers isn't?" snapped Lilith. "Who cares?"

"Bloodthirsty much?" Athena really did not like this Siren—she seemed to think that since she was a walking disaster area, she could do whatever she wanted.

"Maybe we should…"

A smooth feminine voice, presumably the ship's computer, interrupted the discussion.

"Cargo pods A through C ejected."

"I promised Roland we'd kill Jack, his friends, his family, and everyone he knew. Those bastards are GONE—they are NOT allowed on a ship bearing his name!" Brick roared.

Nobody knew what to say. On one hand, there was an opportunity to be a little less…bloodthirsty…than usual. On the other, absolutely every person and robot in the pods would have gladly killed the Vault Hunters. Nobody wanted to appear disrespectful of Roland's memory, either.

Athena brought the schematic Axton had been viewing up again. "What've we got here?"

"Why don't you let the strongest engineer handle that?" Gaige butted Athena out of the way.

"Eridium-fueled acceleration boosters, slag-cooled superlight core. More than enough food, air, and water for us to survive the trip to wherever we're going. One-month travel time since I juiced the engines and we lost all that mass."

Athena visibly facepalmed. Gaige did what to the engines?! She decided it was best to not ask.

* * *

The basic design of a _Curator_ (often referred to as a Republic Star Destroyer) took cues from designs created long ago—its wedge shape allowed a large number of guns to fire at one target so long as said target remained in front of the ship.

Pointing its bow at the black, cuttlefish-shaped ship, _Majesty of Autumn_ opened fire. Sixteen main weapon batteries spat red and blue energy toward the Reaper. Though some of the initial salvo burned away harmlessly against shields, a significant amount got through, impacting directly against armor. The follow-up strike from quad bow-mounted variable-output turbolasers set to maximum yield boiled away huge sections of the living ship's armor.

While under attack, the Reaper reoriented itself, aiming its two-kilometer main gun at its assailant. It may as well have been using a peashooter, however, since a yield in the hundreds-of-kilotons range barely affected defenses intended to resist gigaton-scale blasts.

_Liberty Through Truth_ attacked from below. Blasts from its heavy dorsal-spinal battery tore into the Reaper's "tentacles," severing many of the imposing vessel's primary weapons, but not before several red energy beams had a chance to work over _Liberty_…for minimal damage. _Nebula Angel_ arced in from above, limiting the lone Reaper's ability to defend itself as its fire arcs could not hit all three attackers simultaneously. Though arriving at this angle limited _Nebula_'s contribution to only its bottom weapons, against an enemy whose defenses were optimized for far weaker weapons it did not matter. Within minutes, the Reaper had been reduced to drifting space junk, pieces gradually cooling having absorbed vast amounts of energy from Republic starship weapons.

"That's it? It's dead?"

_That wasn't much of a challenge_ thought Harrison. _These people must be weaker than we first estimated if this is what was terrifying them._

"Operations, notify Terra Nova Command we have made contact with and destroyed a Reaper. It may have been a scout, as it was easily defeated, carried no fighters, and appeared to be configured for stealth."

* * *

It didn't take long for news of the Reaper encounter to spread from the Republic's command ship. Shortly thereafter, the (abbreviated—as the turians could not make a decision) Council received an official report detailing _Majesty of Autumn_'s dust-up.

In a classified-but-on-the-record meeting, the Council discussed what had happened.

"I suppose this is the time when we are forced to acknowledge the existence of the Reapers."

Anderson had never heard anything approaching sarcasm or resentment from Tevos, until now.

"It is the only logical course of action" responded Valern. "At least acknowledging that threats exist outside our borders—I am not yet ready to make a claim that might incite panic based on a few isolated incidents. I will admit, assuming the galaxy was not ready to accept the existence of civilizations from outside merely because our predecessors insisted this to be true may not have been the wisest move."

"The secrecy surrounding other governments seemed to sound more like an article of faith than an actual threat to galactic stability" mused Anderson. "The population clearly either doesn't care or actually is happy to find out that there are other civilizations out there."

"If the Reapers do exist in large numbers and they arrive while the Republic's ships are still here, it's likely they would be a strong asset, given what their cruiser did to the apparent Reaper scout." Tevos couldn't believe she was speaking seriously about something that until recently stood only on the basis of "visions" and a different interpretation of an attack by a rogue Spectre aided by geth.

Anderson felt like replying something along the lines of "no shit" but refrained.

"It would be unwise to allow the Republic to solve our problems for us" finished Tevos.

Despite the Council's sentiment on the matter, this appeared to be exactly what the galaxy was poised to do.


	21. Gathering Storms

Hyperion's board was having a very bad day.

The Pandora H-1 planetary control station had been heavily damaged due to a reactor coolant failure. That would have been enough of a problem, except as far as anyone could tell, the problem arose from sabotage, not chance.

Those who caused the problem with the station's reactor also appeared to have made off with the only working Hyperion superlight drive, dumping the Hyperion personnel and Loaders aboard the craft on their way out.

The board realized it had a limited window of opportunity—it would involve an even larger gamble but should the bet pay off, Hyperion would be in an even stronger position than had the superlight experiment gone as planned. Like a gambler unable to quit, the schemes grew larger and larger.

Though the "big seven" (Hyperion, Dahl, Jakobs, Mailwan, Torgue, Tediore, Vladof) rarely banded together on anything, they had ensured the endurance of an ineffective, inept central government within their galaxy which would allow them to continue running most of the galaxy as they saw fit. Two loose alliances existed between corporations of similar ideological bent. Maliwan/Torgue based solely on the fact that the two were _slightly_ less nasty than the rest and Dahl/Tediore (success through superior volumes rather than superior products). Vladof denounced the rest as "capitalist pigs" (ignoring the hypocrisy of the matter); Jakobs was too fragmented between feuding family members to do anything other than keep making weapons/money, and Hyperion was, well, Hyperion.

Everyone hated Atlas for being the equivalent of the bully in the schoolyard. That said, getting tough on Atlas would have left everyone else open to similar accusations of gross corporate misbehavior, so the remaining corporate citizens kept their mouths shut. When scrappy Vault Hunters on Pandora inadvertently doomed Atlas, discreet cheers were had in the boardrooms of its competitors. The champagne ended up left undrunk and warm when it was realized Hyperion had snapped up most of Atlas (its money, technology, and best employees). Hyperion became the new Atlas, but ever slightly so much less pushy—so again, the others refrained from taking any action.

It was well-known among high-level corporates that advanced civilizations existed outside their galaxy. Whether any of these societies offered a business opportunity remained the key question, one whose answer (no lucrative options visible so far) caused the mega-corporations to keep their focus at home. However, should it be determined that these outside civilizations posed an active _threat_, attitudes might change.

Thus, Hyperion let it be known that its prized superlight ship had been stolen. Unlike most press releases, it did not lay the blame on a rival corporation—instead, it cut straight to the point.

"_Hyperion Press Release_

_Hyperion has always worked to advance the interests of the galaxy and itself. Ever humble and mindful of the needs of others, Hyperion sought to create a technology that could be shared throughout the galaxy for the benefit of all._

_This galactic opportunity was selfishly taken away by murdering terrorists running loose on Pandora. The selfsame monsters who assassinated the daughter of our late CEO, "Handsome" Jack. _

_There would be no purpose in putting prices on the heads of those involved—the cowards have fled and are beyond the reach of justice for the moment._

_More ominous still, these insurgents are seeking allies from outside our home to overthrow the benevolent Economic Development Group which selflessly represents the interests of the galaxy at large by promoting pro-business, pro-growth policies. _

_Though we do not always agree, Hyperion recognizes the value Dahl, Jakobs, Maliwan, Tediore, Torgue and Vladof (list in alphabetical order) have brought to this galaxy and asks them to unite in opposing this rebellion against law and order._

_Signed…"_

Needless to say, suddenly playing nice didn't exactly go over well with the other corporations, at least not at first.

* * *

The "murdering terrorists" in question had no such plans—their only goal had been to prevent Hyperion from spreading its influence beyond the galaxy they called home.

Maya kept reading. She'd downloaded a copy of data she found interesting from the Hyperion Info Stockade. Not all of it had been written by Hyperion apologists—it appeared some documents had two versions. One, the pro-Hyperion, pro-corporatism propaganda message, the other a more "realistic" perspective intended only for internal consumption.

How none of this leaked was anyone's guess. Threat of instant death might have been a contributing factor.

_The Economic Development Group is what passes for a government in our (G-3) galaxy. Essentially a fully-owned subsidiary of the largest corporations, it exists to offer some form of allegedly non-corporate rule to the citizens. Its elections are thinly-disguised shams, its Executive and Judicial Departments spend more time "enforcing" the will of one corporation against another rather than investigating the abuses of citizens that go on every day, and its Legislature's sessions make almost every action by a member corporation retroactively legal at the expense of any other legislation._

"Well that's a comforting thought" said Maya to no one in particular.

"Ooooh, big surprise, the walking library needs another book" teased Salvador. Ignoring him, she read on.

_With every corporation spending almost as much money making secret wars against each other as they do on producing their wares, it's no wonder development has stagnated. Each company is so thoroughly compromised by informants from the others that no one wants to risk developing something new only to have it stolen and used against them. Thus, while incremental improvements may come (mostly in the area of weapons technology), the vast leaps necessary to produce workable inter-galactic travel or improve on the high cost of existing faster-than-light engines are unlikely to occur._

The conclusion to the lengthy treatise on policy designated G-3 an oligopolistic corporatist state. So much effort was expended on manipulating the rules that little energy existed for actual innovations—the large corporations would rather keep the bloody status quo than stick their necks out. Simple Prisoner's Dilemma: Everyone would be better off if the corporate warfare ended, but as soon as one corporation decided to militarize while everyone else backed down, they would triumph over all others. Therefore, the point of equilibrium suggested that every corporation should militarize.

Bored of politics, Maya changed to reading more speculative information. Apparently, the Eridians had fought a massive war against an outside force—one that sought to "process" all advanced life. The Eridians had been wiped out, but not before leaving behind all manner of artifacts which were picked over in the present day. How or why current life existed after the Eridians were exterminated was unknown.

* * *

Anti-Reaper patrols by Republic vessels encountered a few more incursions, mostly the "stealth" configuration destroyed by the _Majesty of Autumn_ Battle Group. However, one task force of three commanded by _Leaf on the Wind_ fought an equal number of clearly not-scout Reapers in the Amazon Cluster. The "buzzing" generated by Reaper indoctrination seemed to magnify exponentially with the number of Reapers present. The Oculus fighters written about by Samantha Shepard also made an appearance, but in small numbers they fell easy prey to _Raptor_ space-superiority fighters. That the battle took more than five minutes was noted in the logs of ships involved, however, the Republic's battleships still won the day relatively easily.

Out of a desire to avoid enabling the wrong types of people, the Republic had (after a controversial analysis) given the most access to its technology to the quarian Flotilla. This caused no end of bitterness on the part of pretty much everybody else. However, quarian ingenuity seemed to be closing in on a solution to the indoctrination problem—combined with Republic shield technology, the quarians had created an indoctrination wave-canceller prototype.

The Republic had begun negotiations with the turian, salarian, asari, and human governments to enable limited knowledge transfer. Unfortunately, every faction wanted the exact same access as every other faction—which the Republic steadfastly refused to provide. Initially, the intent was to develop turian weaponry, salarian medicine, asari biotics, and human engine technology. Of course, the same types of advances needed to build a better engine weren't the exact same as those used in building a more powerful mass accelerator. That each group might take the assistance it was given and later share was not considered (despite there being no rule against it—indeed, this was heavily implied as a solution by Republic negotiators). Under some circumstances, diverse coalitions assembled out of a need to work toward a common good—defeat of a shared enemy, solving an intractable problem affecting everyone, or even crafting legislation (in representative forms of government). This was not one of those times.

Before the disaster on Hagalaz, Liara T'Soni had been analyzing the contents of a Prothean data archive found on Mars in the Sol System. She theorized the Protheans might have been able to construct a device that could stop the Reapers in their tracks. Such a ship would have required a truly galactic effort—for one, rare resources needed would have had to come from many locales not friendly to each other. No single entity possessed all required expertise to construct the device either. However, in the months since the Trans-Galactic Republic arrived, Liara's attention was drawn elsewhere, and the device was forgotten. Liara ended up focusing on rumors of treasures buried in a nearby galaxy. It had been dubbed Galaxy Gamma (until the public acknowledgement of inter-galactic governments with their own designation—G-3); very few had visited it. She had given several items recovered by an inter-galactic trader to Sam Shepard as gifts while conducting further inquiries into the nature of this apparently-inhabited realm.

The Council came clean about the existence of governments above/beyond/outside the known galaxy—to one big yawn. No one, not even the longest-lived asari matriarch, remembered the Local Cluster Council or Federated Cluster Union intervening in anything, much less taking actions that made people angry. A few recalled reading about similar-sounding entities on the extranet, but aside from the existence of these bodies, the theories were all wrong ("The Cluster Council will take your Mantis away," or "The Federated Cluster Union is imposing the New Galactic Order"). They did not admit after the defeat of Sovereign that a communique had been received regarding this threat—or that the Council chose to ignore said communique. The Councilors were politicians, after all.

* * *

The Illusive Man had decided to make do rather than spend vast resources trying to attack a problem even he didn't understand entirely. Thus, only a few Cerberus cruisers were fitted with the scaled-down lightning weapon since growing the organic lattice required ate up vast amounts of physical space and monetary resources. Unlike the disasters with Republic "turbolaser" technology, energy use was acceptable. The ships demonstrated significant improvements over Thanix Cannons or other existing technology—able to bore through Silaris Heavy Ship Armor with a few shots.

Though batarian spies were aware of the Cerberus effort, a sort of mutually-assured-destruction mentality took hold. Neither wanted to be attacked by the still-mostly-superior Republic. Though the lightning gun could damage Republic ships easily, vessels carrying it became a sort of glass cannon—completely unable to survive Republic reprisals. Little came of the ability to reduce Republic shields by 5-7% in one shot…then immediately be liquefied by the response. Amusingly, the batarian efforts were known. The Republic simply didn't care as long as the batarians kept to themselves. Out of fear and well-practiced paranoia, the Hegemony did just that.

* * *

On Pandora, most people didn't pay attention to anything other than the skags at the gate or whether the local bandits were being especially vicious today. Massive buildups of forces by not one, but several corporations did not pass unnoticed despite the general "keep heads down" attitude held by most residents. There were stories of a spectacular battle destroying Hyperion's spaceport—odd that someone managed to destroy a facility whose location was completely unknown. They were Vault Hunters, though (as the winners in most stories on Pandora were) so people accepted the otherwise tall tale. Rumor had it Jakobs, Vladof and Hyperion were building a joint replacement. Large groups of heavily-protected corporate trucks had rumbled through both what passed for civilized towns and bandit shantyvilles alike.

Somebody was working on something.

Having not heard back from the Vault Hunters deployed on a lengthy mission, but at the same time just as aware of the storied destruction of Hyperion's spaceport, the inhabitants of Sanctuary celebrated. Clearly, the convoy (or at least part of it) had gotten to its destination and really made a mess of things. Having shut down the propagandist Hunter Hellquist, no steady source of news existed—though it was just as well since his broadcasts unfailingly painted the Vault Hunters in a poor light.

Patrons at Moxxi's could only speculate—but speculate they did. Rubi had to come out a few times to prevent disputes from getting out of hand.

"I do hope the Vault Hunters were successful in their quest. It would pain me greatly should most of them have perished in this noble attempt."

Sir Hammerlock's general diction would mark him a sophisticated, intelligent man—not the type one would generally expect on Pandora. Then you'd hear his almanac referred to the local bullymongs as "bonerfarts" and the impression of being only a stuck-up snob was completely destroyed.

"Oh come on, sugar. Have some faith. Those Vault Hunters probably blew a lot of stuff up—and looked fabulous doing it! Too bad there's no recording."

Moxxi poured another drink—and unlike some bartenders, was actually aware of what went on in the town around her watering hole.

"I hear Tina did something quite impressive with that old Tediore launcher I gave her" piped up Michael Mamaril. Formerly a Vault Hunter, he had since taken up residence in Sanctuary, offering aid free of charge to those who sought to tame Pandora's more extreme elements.

"Rumor has it the explosion was so big Handsome Jack felt the explosion in hell, where he undoubtedly is!"

Though the notion of the hated Jack rotting in eternal torment pleased virtually all, the deliverer of the message caused Hammerlock to tip not one, but two shots of particularly strong liquor down his throat before muttering something and burying his head in his hands.

"Oh for the love of…can you refrain from making an ill-timed remark in poor taste?" Hammerlock hated Claptrap (the last of his kind), despite the insistence by the latter that the two of them were "pals" ("A horrendous arrangement I would never agree to, even while under the influence!").

"It's too bad my dear family of badasses left the interstellar radio transmitter here—I believe they promised to call once they arrived at their destination."

Putting on an air of mock offense, Moxxi placed the radio on the top shelf behind the bar.

* * *

Republic medical technology had vastly empowered the quarians. Not yet free of their suits, but on the way to having stronger immune systems, the Flotilla became bolder. Not in a "steal-your-resources" sort of way, but a "Hey, pay attention to us and treat us with respect" way. Tabloid papers suggested the now-reclusive Admiral Grayson was having an affair with a member of the Admiralty Board. All involved denied it. It wouldn't have mattered in any case, since everyone potentially involved was single—it was just a case of "Look at the big shiny distraction!"

In actuality, Grayson's reasons for disappearing were far more personal and less dramatic than the tabloids suggested. He found himself conflicted over what he and his task force had accomplished since arriving in this galaxy of the G-Cluster. Though he enjoyed the company of Samantha Shepard and her crew, he just felt _wrong_ stepping so decisively into the lives of these people even though they willingly accepted Republic help. Their entire _world_ stood on its head with the vast advantages Republic technology brought. Synthetic bacta (a relatively simple thing for the Republic) sold for tens of thousands of credits per liter (and people thought eezo was expensive). Some borderline _worshipped_ the Republic as the saviors of the galaxy. Most disturbingly, statues of Grayson had supposedly been commissioned on several worlds.

"I am not a god" he muttered. "And I don't even play one on the holovids!"

The Republic's Charter had no "non-interference directive." So long as due process was followed, it was perfectly fine to intervene in the affairs of other species.

Step 1: Does the species whose affairs we are proposing to meddle with object after hearing what we want to accomplish?

Step 2: If YES, leave or see Step 3. If NO, continue.

Step 3: If YES, there is an option to open a dialogue. But never under the threat of force!

Therein lay the problem: that something was _permitted_ did not make it the _best course of action_. He had heard many stories about old tensions between species being eased through cooperation in this galaxy due to the alleged (now considered actual) Reaper threat. Grayson feared the emergence of the Republic had suddenly negated the need for anyone to work outside their comfort zones.

He also knew that should the Republic pull its forces, the inhabitants of this galaxy were doomed. DOOMED. The Reapers, while no match for a Star Destroyer, were more than enough to tear Citadel ships apart without breaking a sweat.

He decided to cautiously resume his old role as a galactic beacon of hope—and hope that by saving the galaxy, he wasn't planting the seeds of its destruction.

* * *

It was this very same issue keeping Commander Samantha Shepard awake at night. Though she'd kept to herself for the most part recently, she didn't "unplug" from current events and remained fully aware of the galactic goings-on.

"I don't know if Grayson realizes he could be hurting us more than helping us" she whispered to no one in particular.

EDI responded to the Commander's thinking out loud, since it was the first incident of the Commander speaking in quite some time.

"Shepard, it is likely that had he found implications of his actions to be indefensible, he would have desisted from actively spreading Republic technology to the various Citadel races some time ago."

"So do you think he's trying to sabotage us? Prevent us from uniting?" Shepard didn't like the way this train of thought was going.

"I have concluded that is highly unlikely. Dividing the Citadel races serves no purpose for the Republic, as their technological superiority would allow them to conquer us without much effort."

"Is he just careless?"

"Again, my analysis suggests this is not the rationale. It appears he is trapped between taking no action, which allows the Reapers to invade unchecked, and continuing to introduce our society to technological advances, which is creating significant friction between species. Some uncertainty exists, however it is possible he did not foresee the consequences of his actions manifesting themselves in such a negative fashion."

Sam Shepard left her cabin for a purpose other than eating for the first time since initially holing up there.

Returning to the A.I. Core, she found Legion. It did seem a bit odd to her that some of her crew seemed to have nothing better to do than stand around, apparently waiting for her to ask something of them. At this point, she didn't care—what her crew wanted to do in their off-hours was their business.

"Shepard-Commander."

"Legion, I have a question for you. On the Heretic Station, you told me that geth morality wouldn't have a problem rewriting the heretics even though we organics might consider forcibly altering someone's consciousness to be brainwashing."

Legion's head-flaps moved. "Yes."

"Even though I might not have agreed, I was able to understand."

"You are not like other organics. You do not seek to impose the conclusions of your own thought processes on others who are not of your own species. This makes you unique."

"Well, I'm having trouble understanding someone else's morality again…"

"This situation is unexpected. Many organics assert that machines cannot have morals. Though you are not entirely like them, we expected you to seek guidance from others whose viewpoints are closer to your own, as we believe most organics would do."

Shepard smiled, the first in a quite a while. "Well Legion, sometimes we organics don't always do what is expected. Or what makes sense."

"This is simultaneously the greatest strength and greatest weakness of your kind. Your actions can alternate between ordered and chaotic within very short time frames. It makes your path difficult to predict."

"So why would the Republic waltz in, sow conflicts, and doggedly keep at it despite every indication that its goodwill is actually making a mess?" Shepard's head tilted in that manner Legion had learned to mean confusion or questioning.

"The Republic ranking officer must see the Old Machines as a greater threat than the creation of any internal divisions among the organics of this galaxy. One so great that in his view, any action required to address the threat is justified because failure to do so would bring consequences of such magnitude as to not bear thinking about."

Shepard sighed. "I guess I've been trying to bring everybody together for so long anything that deliberately causes groups to drift apart…I just don't get. I especially can't see setting people at each other's throats to be in the service of some greater good."

"Each must be judged on its own merits. That Grayson is genetically identical does not make him a product of the same societal constructs used to form your own sense of what actions are correct."

"In other words, just because he's the same species doesn't mean the morals I'm used to hold for him."

"Correct."

"Thanks, Legion."


	22. The Hammer Falls

Republic patrols reported increasing Reaper activity along the edges of the galactic disk. Deep-space sensors were unable to determine from what direction(s) the Reaper assault would come from, so constant vigilance became the watchword of the day.

The Republic's uneven actions regarding technology continued to irritate virtually everyone. On one hand, it was estimated the quarians might emerge from their suits within two generations thanks to intense genetic therapy. On the other, requests by the turians to acquire any knowledge which might aid in defense (not weapons) against the impending Reaper invasion were continuously rebuffed. Trying to determine how or why the Republic intervened to address a problem led only to confusion. It certainly wasn't random, nor did there seem to be any discernible pattern. The Asari Republic's issues with quantum-computer based voting machines were solved within a matter of weeks. Grayson, having re-emerged, steadfastly refused to confirm or deny the existence of a genophage cure.

As nonsensical as the Republic's actions could be, the galaxy's turnabout on the Reaper issue proved even more vexing. Though Samantha Shepard, Spectre, had produced the evidence used by the Republic to convince the Council of the severity of the Reaper threat, the selfsame Council steadfastly refused to credit anyone save the Republic with "confirming the greatest challenge to galactic peace and stability in the past thousand years." Shepard's name still remained the galactic equivalent of mud as far as the politicians were concerned.

Urdnot Wrex and Sam Shepard shared something in common other than battle scars: the art of keeping one's mouth shut.

Meeting with the krogan leader aboard the _Normandy_, both opined on their respective situations.

"I have my hands full trying to keep clans from either declaring war on these outsiders or trying to sneak into the so-called cultural exchanges. Ended up with a few extra scars over that!"

Indeed, a fresh line ran from Wrex's left eye to somewhere on the side of his massive head.

"I'm not sure why the krogan were banned—still sounds more like Council interference than anything else."

"Shepard, really? Are you surprised the Council does everything in its power to keep krogan away from anything resembling a big gun, fast ship, or, if it actually exists, genophage cure?" Sometimes, he thought, Shepard could be amazingly dense despite her other redeeming qualities.

"That genophage cure is probably just extranet speculation. I still can't believe the politicians though—threw me out the airlock even though my data's what convinced the Republic to save their sorry asses."

EDI's avatar interrupted.

"Priority transmission from Admiral Grayson, Commander."

"Put it through."

"Commander Shepard. I hear you are doing better these days." Grayson's visage appeared as a blue-tinted hologram.

"You could say that." Resisting the urge to ask the antagonizer-in-chief what he wanted, she resorted to more diplomatic language. "What merits a call from the Republic today?"

"We think we know when and where the Reapers will strike. We want you to be ready."

"Ready for what?" Sam found it increasingly difficult to keep her temper—the standing orders, per Status of Forces, were that all Citadel combat ships stay within the protective bubble of the nearest Republic starship's shields and refrain from engaging until any Reaper situation blew over.

Grayson could sense her irritation, but, like everything else (including increased factionalism) it was all for the larger cause of keeping this galaxy intact. _That's what I keep telling myself_…

"We have created several 'up-armament' kits for various ships among the Citadel forces. I am personally asking that you be the representative to present this option to the Council."

_So you want me to take the beating for the mess you've made by handing out party favors willy-nilly. Nice try._

"These refits would take several months at minimum, but it would allow your forces greater participation in the battle against the Reapers."

She had to appreciate Ashley Williams' comment about "With all due respect," as she made the same use of it now.

"With all due respect" (she dragged the phrase out as if it was difficult for her to use), "if we're going to fight the Reapers, it will be on our terms. You can either fight at our side or not, but we aren't going to turn this into some kind of contest to see who can show up with the biggest intergalactic hot rod."

Grayson's tone became more formal and clipped. "If you change your mind, let us know. Grayson, out."

"I always thought you were more pragmatic than this." Sam had forgotten Wrex was standing right next to her. His gravelly voice suggested some level of disapproval.

"What's pragmatic about playing games with someone who is more concerned about medals and press conferences than anything else?" Her voice rose in a fury. "All he does is throw his fancy technology at a problem—it doesn't matter what happens because of it as long as the problem goes away!"

"He's not Saren, you know."

Those five words jolted Shepard partially out of her rage.

"Saren's soldiers were shadows of true krogan. Grown in a tank with no purpose other than killing."

A wry smile crossed Sam's face. "Grunt was grown in a tank."

"Yes, he was. But not by a power-hungry madman intent on taking over the galaxy. Even if you don't agree with someone, you can at least understand why they're doing what they do."

Shepard was incensed. "If he's not Saren, then why is he acting like it? Offering all sorts of goodies, setting whole species against each other, and not giving a crap what happens?"

"He thinks he has a better option—and as much as I hate to say this, he may be right. How many lives were lost fighting Sovereign? And that was one—there are hundreds or thousands more of those tentacled bastards out there that we have to kill. Just because he saves us doesn't mean we have to do everything he says—look at what happened to the krogan!"

The following bark of a laugh made Sam wince.

"I've seen you negotiate, Shepard. You're better than black-and-white, yes-or-no. You stood down Corporal Toombs. You've defused more arguments with talking than some krogan have with fighting—and that's saying something!"

"So, what, let them fight this battle for us? With all the problems Republic technology has created, it would be really twisted if they were to win this, only to cause more problems."

"Sometimes, you gotta step in one mess to clean up a bigger one."

Now that she thought about it, she'd voluntarily walked into many situations that seemed dire at first, offering no simple resolutions or easy answers. But she'd gotten through—the Collector base, Grunt's rite of passage, chasing (but losing) Morinth in the slums of Omega…

That she had a philosophical conversation with a _krogan_ just made the whole situation hilarious, despite the scale of the stakes.

EDI cut in again. "Shepard, the Citadel is broadcasting a general alarm—many contacts reported at the Citadel Relay. They appear to be Reapers."

"Shit. Shit shit shit! Joker! Get us ready to go!"

A "what the hell?" tone of voice came over the ship's sound system. "Shepard, more than half the crew is on the station! We can't fight like this!"

Using an emergency broadcast frequency, Sam barked out orders that ought to have reached every single person assigned to the Normandy.

"This is Shepard! The Reapers are here! Get back to the ship—we have a battle to win!"

_Five minutes. They have five minutes before we take off with whomever we have available._

Citadel Control experienced similar issues scrambling its forces, though on a much larger scale. The eight turian dreadnaughts and cruiser escorts normally found patrolling the Serpent Nebula were caught off guard. The two closest to the relay were annihilated immediately with no chance to fight. The others gathered some distance back and opened fire with their main guns, but without a significant screen of smaller ships aside from the fifteen cruisers already present, they fell victim to hit-and-run attacks by smaller corvette-class Reapers and Oculus.

Concentrated fire damaged half a dozen Reapers and destroyed three more, but against the seemingly endless horde arriving at the Citadel relay, the victory was fleeting. Several other worlds simultaneously reported Reaper attacks—curiously, this was not limited to those with significant military strength as had been predicted by Council military advisors. The turians had pulled most of their dreadnaughts (25 of 39 total) back to Palaven's star system when the Republic arrived. Now, a frantic mobilization was taking place. Even for the well-drilled turians, surprise proved to be a deadly enemy as Reapers sliced many ships to ribbons while still docked at fueling/discharge depots on Essenus. The dispersed asari fleet fared better, though only because Reaper attackers had to hunt down individual ships, giving them slightly longer lifetimes before Reapers tore them to shreds. Sur'Kesh and Earth, being more out of the path of the invasion, had not yet been attacked, though the Alliance Navy had pulled back to Arcturus Station in preparation for any assault on the Sol System.

Seeing all this on the Normandy's galaxy map, Shepard facepalmed. "Divided we fall" she whispered, looking at each fleet defending its own little place in space. A single tear leaked from her left eye. Between all Citadel races, somewhere around 90 dreadnaught-scale vessels, along with the Systems Alliance's carriers (three) would have been able to put up a hell of a fight.

Had the impossible situation of quarians vs. geth been resolved, that would have added at least thirty advanced dreadnaughts to the count. Some quarian admirals had been willing to negotiate, but with the advent of Republic technology, the pro-invasion faction gained the upper hand, leading to a disastrous attack against entrenched geth fleets only a short time before the Reapers arrived. Medical technology and slightly uprated shields were no match for sheer firepower.

It was clear that unity landed on the back burner as everyone fell over all over each other trying to get their hands on the latest Republic toys, or were deluded into false senses of confidence from minor technological upgrades. Species governments recalled their fleets to defend homeworlds rather than combining forces, weakening the galaxy's overall position.

James Vega hurtled onto the main deck. "Commander, you're _loco_ if you think we can go up against those monsters by ourselves."

"The last time we took down a Reaper, it took a team. We may not have all the ships in the galaxy, but there are ships out there that _need our help_. Impossible odds or not, we're going to get in that fight."

The determination radiating off the formerly-depressed commander was enough to keep Vega from saying anything more.

The view from the _Normandy_'s bridge, however, showed exactly what the commander would be taking her ship into, and it wasn't pretty.

Two dreadnaughts were still functional. Sitting behind the six remaining cruisers, their main guns belched fire at the onrushing Reapers. The defiant flash of Thanix-powered mass accelerators made for a great light show, but had little effect on their opponents. In the time it took for the dreadnaughts to fire two rounds, a cruiser got bisected by one of the many red death-beams dancing around the battlefield. Its remains crashed into a second ship: double kill.

Oculus buzzed about, stinging the remaining heavy ships again and again.

On the bridge of _Revenant_, Grayson observed the one-sided slaughter at the Citadel and throughout the galaxy. As he suspected, the Citadel races were no match for the Reapers. Maybe if they'd banded together wielding Republic technology (an impossible situation, he noted bitterly, since the races of the Citadel seemed too intent on outdoing one another) they would have stood a chance. Even together, without Republic aid, they might've had a glorious end. And what an end!

_So much for knowing when the space-squids were going to show up._

Nevertheless, he ordered his ship brought about.

Issuing a fleetwide order on superluminal communication channels, he intoned "Republic ships, move in. Save this galaxy!"

Not waiting for a response from other fleet elements before springing into action, sheets of red energy poured from _Revenant_'s weapon emplacements. The heaviest weapons were capable of melting Reapers into slag with one or two hits—if the shot could connect. Reapers were surprisingly fast-moving for their large (2km) size. Swarms of fighters billowed from uncountable hanger bays, engaging the Oculus in vicious ship-to-ship combat. Though _Raptors_ were perfectly average by Republic standards, they held up well against Oculus weaponry. Armed with a pair each of laser and ion cannons, the fighters were able to disable or destroy Oculus without too much trouble. Combined with decent shields and fast engines, _Raptors_ stamped out impressive kill ratios, averaging 3:1 against the Reaper's fighter-analogs.

Samantha Shepard watched the Republic's attacks with some level of amazement. The Reaper capital ships that walked through Citadel dreadnaughts like they did not exist simply melted in the face of such superior firepower. Despite being on the sidelines, a lady could appreciate that superior firepower!

Republic ships in other clusters responded to Grayson's orders by taking the fight to the nearest invading force.

In larger battles, indoctrination remained a concern for fightercraft. The portable indoctrination-shield device being worked on between quarians and Republic had not yet been perfected, though capital ship size versions seemed to blunt the effect enough to prevent mass-indoctrination of Star Destroyer crews. About 25% of fighter pilots flying too close to a Reaper (~1000km) became passive, unable to attack the Reaper or break free of its influence. As a direct counter, fighters had been programmed to remain 1100km or more from Reapers, though rapidly-changing battle conditions prevented the solution from being totally effective. Some pilots were still lost, but sheer numbers made up for the problem.

How a single crewmember aboard _Majesty_ had become indoctrinated with zero other indications of problems remained a mystery to the Republic (off-ship exposure did not occur to anyone). The official "safe range" (anti-indoc shields or not) was well within range of the Republic's large weapons, while fighters weren't needed to attack the Reapers directly anyway—only their Oculus.

Shepard briefly considered actually launching the _Normandy_ into combat with half a crew, but who needed to charge up the hill when a krogan squad had already turned the enemy into paste?

"I guess it's nice to let someone else save the galaxy for a change." She sat in the copilot's chair and put her feet up. Joker suppressed a grin.

Grayson could only hope the Reapers kept attacking the Citadel and _Revenant_ rather than forcing him to spread out his forces further. The flagship's two "floater" escorts, _Vanquisher of Shadows_ and _Force of Justice_ (the former Mk. II, the latter not) hyperspaced in from the edge of the Widow system. To add insult to injury, the two Star Destroyers were able to park inside _Revenant_'s shields, allowing them to deal massive damage while taking none. _Revenant_ destroyed a Reaper capital-scale vessel every few seconds after some clever quarian-inspired adaptations to the heavy weapon targeting systems. As a result, at least a hundred Reaper capital ships must have fallen rushing against _Revenant_'s impenetrable combination of immunity to their attacking weapons fire and punishing broadsides. Though the ship had in fact taken damage, the impact was minute—a few tenths of a percent from total shield strength.

At some point, Grayson offered (and Shepard accepted) patching the _Normandy_'s sensors into _Revenant_'s. She guessed he wanted to let her crew watch the battle unfold at the director's podium from which the symphony of destruction was directed.

Observing the action in her mostly-silent command center, Sam could not help but be reminded of Galactic DiplomoCraft, a combination strategy and tactics game, as images played out on the holo-table before her. The Reapers did not make the same hardcoded "mistake" most of the game's A.I. profiles did. Instead of repeatedly attacking an impenetrable defense until forces were exhausted, the Reapers began to spread out, sending ten, twenty, or a hundred dreadnaught scale vessels to separate targets. The neigh-invulnerable _Revenant_ could not be everywhere at once. The Republic only had nine Battle Groups, so it was forced to pick and choose. Any time the Republic engaged the Reapers with sufficient force, the Republic would win (eventually)—but those Reapers unopposed by the outsider battleships tended to create swaths of destruction until someone intercepted them.

Unfortunately for the defenders, eleven sapient homeworlds needed protection—Earth, Dekuuna, Heshtok, Irune, Khar'shan, Palaven, Rannoch, Kahje, Sur'Kesh, Thessia, and Tuchanka. Breaking the Republic's forces into pieces weakened them—even the strongest fighters could not stand against impossible numerical odds. Initially, neither Sur'Kesh nor Earth fell under attack. Nine planets—nine battle groups. No degree in astrophysics required for determining initial defense deployments.

However, the mostly-equal forces faced unequal attacks.

The group at Khar'shan encountered hostile batarians armed to the teeth with the lightning gun. _Eye of Hyperion_ became crippled before the batarians realized the Reapers were both present and a larger problem than the supposed Republic "invaders." The significant power of the batarian navy led many Reapers to be sent in, many more than, say, at Kahje. Interestingly, batarian lightning gun technology worked decently well against Reapers, so defenders were able to hold out once a begrudging agreement was crafted in the heat of battle. The Republic still did most of the "heavy lifting" and all large-scale implementations of the lightning gun were lost when their dreadnaught hosts were destroyed. Batarian casualties were significant.

At Tuchanka, the Council Demilitarization Enforcement Mission faced the Reapers first. Situated in heavily armed battlestations, they were able to mount an effective, if temporary resistance until Republic help arrived. Surface-mounted anti-orbital guns also assisted.

"RNS _Promenade Sunrise_? Who comes up with these names?" bellowed the krogan observer to CDEM.

The elcor possessed few starships or orbital defenses around their homeworld of Dekuuna.

"With gratitude whose limits cannot be expressed: Thank you for defending our planet" was the first transmission from what passed for an elcor military command to RNS_ Majesty of Autumn_.

Thus, Republic assistance gained great appreciation. Kim Harrison was intrigued by the elcor, but there existed no time to conduct a cultural exchange in the middle of a war. Learning more about aliens would have to wait.

Arriving at Heshtok, RNS _Righteous Fury_ found no government to communicate with and no organized military force to speak of. Nevertheless, the Republic Battle Group fought to prevent the Reapers from taking out the short-lived, volatile vorcha. "Defenders of the galaxy don't discriminate" was the response to those who questioned the value of saving a race whose presence generally drew cries of blight.

Irune possessed a defense of six turian dreadnaughts plus a single volus capital ship (_Kwunu)_. Though the combined firepower took out five or more Reapers, the seemingly endless follow-through broke the line despite many Thanix Cannon armed vessels. Upon arriving, RNS _Leaf on the Wind_ found _Kwunu_ adrift, one functional turian battleship, and the remains of the rest floating in space.

Reaper harvest had already begun, but was disrupted by continuous Republic orbital bombardment. Volus civilians expressed astonishment that three ships could occupy the attention of twenty or more of the Reaper behemoths while swatting aside smaller attackers.

Kahje's defenses held by virtue of a small Reaper attack force vs. a significant number of tireless, automated mass drivers. It was theorized the Reapers did not consider the dying drell or mobility-limited hanar valuable enough as thralls to merit risking many ships. Nevertheless, a Republic patrol arrived anyway, led by RNS _Scourge of Darkness_. This fleet would later be pulled when conditions demanded it.

Reapers attacking Thessia faced few obstacles, though the still-under-repair _Destiny Ascension_ put up a massive fight. Using its drydock's shields to complement its own, the ship's main gun tore through several Reaper ships on its own before return fire silenced it. Since the asari maintained only small commando units rather than relying on mass mobilization like other Citadel races, the Republic found Thessia burning. RNS _Noble Huntress_ and battle group began to extinguish the flames via an orbital bombardment, drawing Reapers processing captured asari back into orbit, where the attackers were slaughtered.

Dropping out of hyperspace as close to Palaven as possible, RNS _Sacrifice of Angels_ discovered one Citadel race that refused to go quietly. Space flashed with repeated Thanix Cannon strikes, fightercraft relentlessly strafed larger Reapers with torpedo attacks, and every citizen took part in the war without question.

"They may be arrogant" remarked _Angel_'s captain, "but **damn** they can fight!" Having to dodge nearly as many Reaper corpses as wrecked turian vessels proved the point. Had the Reapers possessed more limited forces, Republic battle computers estimated that the turians might have actually been able to win on their own—an impressive feat for "cavemen" (as Republic analysts earlier put it, not realizing their words would come back to haunt).

The captain of RNS _Star Paladin_ would later recount her service at Rannoch to be the most tense, challenging situation she'd ever faced. The native organic species, quarians, had been forced off-world by a confrontation with the sapient machines called geth they'd designed. Regardless of who started it, who continued it, or who "deserved" to be punished, the Reapers were a fact. A fact that asserted itself very suddenly, tearing into both sides. Some quarians were all for using the Reapers as a cover to deploy an experimental anti-geth virus, but were overridden. These were the same voices that had advocated what ended up being a disastrous attack against the geth in the first place, so their credibility on strategy issues took a significant hit.

_Star Paladin_ had to literally endure fire from both sides before a cease-fire could be brokered. The quarians acquiesced due to some slick diplomacy, while the geth agreed simply because the threat posed by Republic vessels exceeded that of the Reapers should the Republic become hostile (which was exactly what would happen, the captain warned, if both factions didn't stop shooting, _now_). Knowing that "stopping the fight" and "earning trust" were two very different things, the Republic would have to tread carefully around the "Rannoch issue."

Inevitably, the Reapers turned to the last two planets which were not initially slated for Republic defense: Sur'Kesh and Earth. Whether this would be a last gasp of a failed invasion or a full-throated kick to the stomach from forces only beginning to show their strength remained to be seen.


	23. War, Interrupted

The _Roland_ exited superlight in a remote system at the edge of the target galaxy.

"We're gonna be broke-ass poor here!" noted Gaige, a little too excitedly.

"Gaige, I don't think money is our biggest issue—we're hundreds of thousands of light years from home in a totally unfamiliar galaxy. We could get eaten by something as soon as we land!"

"Mordecai: No sense of humor" snarked Athena.

"Venting final superlight coolant" intoned the computer. "Engine usable for sublight travel only."

"Computer's showing some kind of space station ahead" cut in Axton. "Looks like a fuel station."

"Yeah, because their fuel is totally the same as ours."

"Lilith, there's no harm in looking" replied Maya.

Gaige fired the ship's engines and eased the awkward-shaped craft over closer to what was thought to be a fuel depot. The long grey-brown structure had protruding fins at one end and a large box shape attached to the other. Unfortunately for the Vault Hunters, there were no apparent fueling ports—well, no apparent fueling ports compatible with their ship.

ZZZZZT! Sparks flew as _Roland_ moved too close to the depot and its large, bubble-shaped shield connected.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

The energy in the shield cut through a weakened section of fuel tank—left in space for decades, repeatedly over-filled by sloppy crews, the tank's formerly-sturdy wall stood one tap away from bursting. Stored helium-3 vented into space, directly into the shields of _Roland_. Since helium remained mostly inert without a fusion plant's plasma to ignite it, very little occurred beyond a few colorful flashes as the energy of the shield blocked the small particles headed toward the ship.

"Gaige, let me fly." Athena pushed the overeager young adult from the controls and got a pouty glare in return.

"Ah, well that's annoying."

* * *

Jason Nesmith slapped the console. Apparently, a fuel depot in the Artemis Tau cluster had begun leaking its helium-3 supply. Thankfully, the leak was not the much rarer and more expensive (potentially explosive) anti-protons—which would result in an official Alliance inquiry combined with disciplinary measures for any person found to have engaged in negligence that caused the leak.

From his monitoring station, he ordered one of the station's maintenance bots to repair the damage. Putting his feet up on the grimy control board, he watched on the small, low-resolution video screen as the bot exited its garage. He suddenly sat up much straighter.

Bending closer to the screen to get a better view, he squinted.

"Hey, Kane! Get over here!"

The disagreeable, overweight, and greasy supervisor hauled himself out of his chair, a mop of graying hair barely concealing a balding head.

"You're makin' me put down my chips. This had better be important."

The bot's visual sensor had rotated toward the fuel depot as it patched the helium tank's hole.

"I don't see anything. Just a leak. You made me get up to watch a bot seal a leak?"

He turned to waddle back to his chair.

"No, no. Look!" Jason rewound the surveillance footage. "It's a ship!"

"Ships re-fuel every day. It ain't anything special" came the drawled reply.

The bot's camera overloaded temporarily in a flash of light as it was torn from the hull of the depot. Its camera showed that the bot lolled about in space, rolling on every axis as it drifted helplessly away. Through some kind of distortion, the repair bot's camera was able to again show the ship, in more detail this time.

"Very funny Jason, stop wasting thruster fuel."

"This is recorded footage! I'm not doing anything!"

Knowing his boss didn't believe any of what he said (that the ship was unusual, that the bot's footage was off) he waited for Kane to shuffle off to the bathroom before filing a very brief Unusual Incident Report.

Kane liked to play omnitool games in the bathroom, so Jason needn't have bothered with the hurriedness or secrecy, but sometimes he actually came back from the bathroom in a reasonable amount of time. Not this trip.

* * *

"Maya!" barked Athena. "Did you really have to do that?"

Fishing for an excuse, she stuttered through a half-baked reason. "It, uh, looked like a Hyperion surveyor! Yeah. And we destroy everything Hyperion!"

The look on her face suggested she knew this wasn't going to work, like a kid caught playing on the ECHOnet instead of doing homework—just hoping against hope Mom/Dad would buy the "It's done" routine.

"I hope that doesn't set off an alarm" mused Axton. "Half the time in the sims, when you attack some random harmless…thing…you find, its death summons its fellows which maul you."

"Oh come on" said an exasperated Maya. "Get your head out of the ECHO-sim!"

The Vault Hunters had, of course, _indirectly_ set off an alarm from Jason Nesmith's Unusual Incident Report. The Systems Alliance, being in the middle of a war, was simultaneously driven to ignore and respond to the fuel depot issue—the former because it was out-of-the-way with no Reaper activity, the latter because every last drop of fuel matters in a war. And every time someone ignored "a little thing," it blossomed into an ugly big thing…

Nesmith's report got handed off through several bureaucrats, but one by the name of Lazarus Dane happened to take it seriously. Since the Alliance was not yet involved directly in the Reaper fight, no ships were on regular patrol in that system. Dane put in a request for investigation, which shortly thereafter reached the desk of one Commander Samantha Shepard. Reinstated without comment after her bout of depression, she now had the option of acting for the Alliance in an official capacity again.

Seeing that her crew had returned (or was nearby gawking at the battle going on outside and thus easily summoned), she figured she could accommodate the request. Especially since after the destruction of over a hundred Reaper dreadnaughts, the waves coming through the Citadel Relay seemed to have slackened to nothing for the moment.

"Why me? I command the most advanced warship the Alliance Navy has ever seen, and I get sent on random errands! 'Find all these ancient asari writings!' 'Hunt for minerals!' 'Defuse this hostage situation half a galaxy away since you're the only one who can do it!' What am I, Errand-Girl?"

Vega happened to overhear the Commander's mini-rant. "To be fair, _Lola_, you were complaining about being cooped up on the Citadel while the Republic does all the fighting."

"I'd almost rather stay cooped up than go on random search-and-find missions better suited for automated survey ships" she replied.

"Your call, Commander."

"Oh, what the hell." Entering commands into the galaxy map, she set the _Normandy_'s course for Artemis Tau. "I did first meet Liara there" she mused. "Taking bets I find someone else!"

Opening the intercom, she ordered stealth systems engaged as soon as the ship arrived at its destination, lest there be any hidden Reapers waiting nearby.

Thankfully, unlike many Uncharted Space missions she'd been sent on, the fuel depot in question was in an obviously-marked location. Dropping out of FTL near the depot, _Normandy_'s sensor suite immediately picked up on another ship nearby.

"Better stay sharp, Shepard!" called Joker over the intercom. "Picked up something that doesn't match any known configuration—and no, it's not a Reaper!"

Sam jogged to the front of her ship. Whatever it was, it had vented a gigantic purple cloud of, well, _something_. It seemed to be under power, but wasn't heading in any particular direction. Heat emissions from the purple cloud were off the scale.

"EDI! See what you can find out about that purple mist!"

"It appears to be a liquid form of a substance not yet classified by any known science. It can absorb immense amounts of heat."

Shepard had a lightbulb moment. "Is it similar in color to that stone I have in my quarters?"

"The hue is a very close match, Shepard. Of course, this is not a scientifically acceptable method for determining the origin of a substance. I have also detected a modulating pulse wave emitting from the ship that seems to be following a pattern."

A readout of the pulse wave appeared on one of the bridge monitors. "Hey, that looks like Morse Code!" burst out Joker. "I haven't seen that since flight school."

"Can you read it?"

"EDI, read that Morse Code for me!"

For the first time, EDI's artificial voice sounded irritated. "Hello world. This is a test. Can you hear me now?"

"That's…what it says?" Sam could not help but show disappointment. "Do you think there's anyone on that ship?"

"It is impossible for my sensors to detect life signs due to the heat emissions from the mist" EDI replied. "I will attempt to match the frequency of their carrier wave and respond. Do you have any particular phrase you wish me to use?"

Shepard decided to have a little fun. "Yeah! 'I'm Commander Shepard, and I run faster than a leopard!'"

* * *

"A ship!" exclaimed Maya. "Looks like we attracted attention!"

"Now the question is whether we'll like what we got, or if we'll wish we're back on Pandora fighting Handsome Jack again." Mordecai's pessimism could grate sometimes. Nevertheless, caution wasn't an unwelcome attitude given the situation.

"We're getting a response! DOT-DOT-DASH…DOT-DOT-DASH-DOT…DOT-DOT-DASH-DOT-DOT ."

"I didn't know you knew Morse Code, Brick." Athena found herself surprised with the intelligence of a man who was built like a walking fridge.

"Uhh, wrong!" piped up Gaige. "He just spelled 'fail.' That's not what the message says!"

"Yeah, I was making that up…" His voice trailed off.

"Damn it." Lilith smacked the computer console. "I guess Hyperion included a way to send Morse Code without a receiver."

"Or they expected, like good soldiers, that we'd know how to decipher it." Athena stood off by herself in a corner, arms folded across her chest. "Gaige seems to know, or is she guessing too?"

"No, I got it!" She scribbled madly on a piece of paper, holding it up for the rest of the Vault Hunters to read.

"Some of us are going to need glasses to read that."

"Maybe it's cause you're old, Mordecai!"

Lilith grabbed the slip of paper. "Who the hell is Commander Shepard?"

Some back-and-fourth Morse ensued, eventually leading to the establishment of a low-speed, low-resolution video link.

Both parties stood shocked at the very human-like beings on the other side. Shepard recovered first. "Who are you?"

Even more shocking: unlike communication with the Trans-Galactic Republic, no linguistic barriers existed. Dialects and accents, sure, but no flat-out cannot-understand incidents.

"How do we even speak the same language?" started Lilith. "We come from another galaxy!" She emphasized the last word.

"Which one?" shot back Sam Shepard.

"G-3. You're some of the rich neighbors" concluded the Siren.

EDI spoke. "Based on Republic records, G-3 is a galaxy approximately 250,000 light-years from this one. It is an economically-depressed corporate oligarchy with little government whose citizens make do with what few possessions they can obtain without arousing the wrath of one of the large corporations that effectively run it."

"That…about sums it up" replied Lilith, rather shaken by a bodiless voice which happened to know a disturbing amount about her home without being told. "I'm Lilith."

She elected not to reveal the "Siren" part just yet.

"Samantha Shepard. Now that we've established you're not going to shoot us and we're not going to shoot you, it might be simpler to talk in person."

"Drop your shields if you've got 'em killer, we'll be right over."

"You have a shuttle?" inquired the commander.

"We don't need no stinkin' shuttles" smirked the red-haired woman. "Just drop your shields."

Shepard motioned to mute audio, then turned to Joker.

"I don't like the sound of this. Secure the briefing room. Have guards outside. I'll tell them where that is and see if they can go for it."

Unmuting the audio, Shepard turned back to the video transmission. "I'm sending coordinates to you now and lowering shields. Can you teleport or something?"

Within seconds, a loud "whoosh" in the comm room announced the arrival of the guests.

"That's slightly creepy" Joker whispered. "They just, appeared in the comm room!"

As a gesture of goodwill, Sam Shepard stepped into the room empty-handed. With her heavy cybernetic implants and combat skills, she was never truly unarmed. The guards she'd asked for stood back just out of sight from the doorway.

_This ought to be interesting._


	24. Shepard, Sirens, and Starships

Sam Shepard felt like Tali on _Revenant_. As the pink-purple glow surrounding her new guests faded, a million questions raced through her head, each half-formed before another displaced it. In the end, she spluttered out "Who are get here?"

"Let's try that again, killer." Lilith allowed herself a quick visual once-over of her new host. She didn't usually swing that way but…wow. Impressive physique and stature. Also helped to not be seeing through a low-definition videolink. She discreetly licked her lips.

Shepard slowed down and adopted an exaggerated enunciation to keep herself from blabbing like a child again. "Who are you, and how did you get here?"

Gaige made a move as if to step forward. Rolling their eyes, the other Vault Hunters moved back. She spoke very quickly.

"Usingasuperlightdrivecooledbyliquidslagwemanagedt osetanewspeedrecordcoveringaquarterbillionlightyea rsinlessthanamonth. ITSSOAWESOME!"

Shepard tilted her head quizzically. "Come again?"

"Gaige, you're sounding a bit like Tina" laughed Brick. "Slow down some!"

Taking a deep breath, she began again. "The ship we came in on uses revolutionary properties of Eridium slag—that's the purple stuff you saw—to allow us to maintain a ridiculous faster-than-light travel speed."

Sam commed Tali. "Hey! Tali! You'll want to hear about this stuff—get up here!"

"On my way, Commander."

Turning back to her guest, she elaborated. "My chief engineer would like to speak with you about this 'Eridium slag' substance."

"Uhh, it's kinda toxic" cut in Maya.

"But if you spray your enemies with it, BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!" The short man gestured wildly, making finger-gun shapes with his hands.

"Does he…have an indoor voice?" Shepard felt like M920 Cain explosions might have been quieter.

"NO!" roared Salvador.

"So what is this about new technology?" Despite her suit, excitement was clearly evident.

"Oh great, here comes the nerdfest" moaned Axton.

"Let's not…bore the Commander with tech." Tali gestured for Gaige to come with her.

"Hold on, hold on!" Lilith put her hand up. "You're just going to walk off with some person whose face we can't even _see_, because she asked you to? Remember the last time we trusted someone who just said 'Follow me'? _Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its intelligence module!"_

"Excuuuuuuuuuse me?" Tali wasn't sure whether to be confused or offended.

EDI chose this moment to comment. "Tali'Zorah vas Normandy has a brain in her cranium, like most organics. It is simply concealed under her environment suit." Her blinking avatar popped up on the nearest console.

"Oh great, a talking computer. The last time we trusted a talking computer, _we all nearly died_. Did everyone forget that?" Axton reached for his Sabre turret, only to have his arm grabbed below the shoulder by Brick.

"Let's not be hasty here!"

"Oh, a lesson in restraint from Mister Punch Everything In The Face!"

"Lilith, Brick, calm down." Mordecai felt like he was shepherding skags sometimes.

VOOOOOM! A random ammo crate levitated, caught in a ball of bluish-purple energy.

"I am so bored" complained Maya.

While the gathering was supposed to be secret, Shepard accidentally left the door open. Therefore, any passer-by could see and hear what was going on, resulting in quite a crowd outside.

"Biotic, huh?" Wrex ambled up behind Shepard and Tali, Garrus following closely.

"Bi-what?" Maya let the crate down with a clatter.

"Channeling mass effect fields based on element zero to—" Seeing the utterly confused look on the blue-haired woman's face, he stopped. "Never mind."

"Let's get this over with" sighed Shepard. "We have a lot to talk about…"

* * *

Admiral Steven Hackett knew the respite from Reapers at the Citadel (or in the case of Earth, lack of Reapers entirely) was merely the eye of the storm. The Systems Alliance's fleets escaped unscathed so far, unlike their turian brethren. Under orders from the Alliance parliament, all fleets were pulled back to Arcturus Station—not participating in the defense of Citadel colonies or planets belonging to other races. The logic was that nobody else was spreading their forces out to defend allies, so why should the Alliance risk its war assets? In addition, Arcturus Station's placement permitted most Alliance colonies to be protected easily. They needn't have bothered—Reapers were only focusing on homeworlds.

Within hours of the "miracle at the Citadel," Reapers stormed through relays toward the Sol System. The massed guns of the Alliance Navy were brutally effective at first, though just as at Palaven, the endless stream of enemies wore them down.

As the Alliance Navy's fleets dwindled, news of colony attacks filtered through to Hackett and other fleet commanders. Guided by the axiom "He who defends everything, defends nothing," the Alliance brass made the tough call to send minimal protection to the colonies—evacuate, not defend. "You're late" was the general response to a Republic Battle Group led by RNS _On Angel's Wings_ when the five-ship force belatedly arrived to assist against the single largest concentration of Reapers yet seen outside the Citadel attack.

Other species soon found themselves in the same situation: homeworld might be safe, but colonies and other remote locations were being harvested. It was only at this point the disparate members of the Citadel began to really organize as a united front rather than acting solely in their own interests. Of course, there existed a key difference between "organize" and "execute," as was found out by the ad-hoc shared commands assembled between the salarians (untouched), turians (very battle-worn), asari (few ships left), and humans (half-strength).

Before the newly-christened United Defense Command had even been formalized, the Republic made its first major blunder of the so-far short war. Republic ships weren't invincible—in groups, they just held out long enough that the Reapers generally turned tail after suffering horrendous losses. RNS _Force of Justice_ was dispatched by itself to deflect what was believed to be a small Reaper attack on an asari colony. Encountering overwhelming enemy force (some twenty Reaper capital ships alone), the ship's crew nearly mutinied facing an order to stand and fight as their vessel came apart under concentrated Reaper fire. Only a rousing speech from the captain whipped them back into fighting shape. The last few sentences were broadcast at full power on all channels: "If we have to give our lives fighting these bastards, we give 'em hell before we do! If this be our end, we show them how Republic soldiers die—AT RAMMING SPEED!"

Shortly after that, a gargantuan explosion lit up sensors for many light years around the colony. Post-battle analysis would show the ship crashed through three Reapers as its reactor overloaded. Not called "miniature suns" for nothing, the meltdown destroyed all Reaper vessels in the area and led to a dangerous amount of debris entering the atmosphere of the planet behind it. Tens of thousands died from flaming metal smashing into the surface. The world also suffered a radiation bombardment—but better irradiated than taken by Reapers.

In a reversal of roles, the Reapers were engaging in hit-and-fade strikes against the galaxy's defenders. It had been the other way around until the Republic intervened, dropping the hammer on the squid-shaped invaders. In the hours it took to both foolishly lose a Republic ship and organize an effective all-hands-on-deck defense force, seven colonies were attacked. As if they were exacerbating the disunity problem, the Reaper forces did not focus on any single race's colonies—igniting debates among the new UDC as to which worlds to protect with its limited forces. Ultimately, it was agreed to make stands at the "most defensible" outposts; unfortunately the definition of "defensible" happened to change depending on the race under attack.

The Republic continued fighting the Reapers while the Citadel UDC deliberated. It became a game of whack-a-mole as Republic vessels bounced from one hotspot to another—putting thousands of light-years onto hyperdrives in the process. Even at relatively low superluminal speeds, FTL travel required massive energy reserves to achieve, and Republic stores were dwindling. Use of the mass relays helped, but not all systems possessed one—necessitating use of hyperspace travel to reach trouble systems. _Curator_ Star Destroyers generally were limited to 175,000 light-years at typical cruising speed (significantly less than maximum) before refueling—fewer if combat was frequent. The more efficient Mark IIs managed a rating of 200,000. Of course, it so happened not all ships were fully-fueled before departure (though use of a long-range Relay meant no energy consumption for the inbound trip)—some ships had as few as 10,000 light-years of travel remaining given current fuel quantities.

After many deaths, a boatload of battles, and much hand-wringing, the races of the galaxy sat down with the Republic to determine a strategy to remove the Reaper scourge once and for all.

"Synthetic lifeforms follow their programming" lectured Legion to a bemused combined UDC-Republic meeting. "The reduction in Old Machine attacks does not mean they will cease their activities—only that they have determined the present situation is not favorable. We have doubts the Old Machines contain contingency code permitting them to halt their attacks unless the goal of eliminating all organic life is accomplished."

Legion's admission to the Galactic War Council only proceeded after much yelling, swearing, and fist-shaking by Samantha Shepard and Tali'Zorah. Garrus was impressed. "You intimidated an entire roomful of politicians and generals back there!"

"It was all Shepard" replied Tali. Turning to her commander, she finished "It's fun watching you shout."

As a consequence of Shepard's "verbal ju-jitsu," the quarian Flotilla gained the right to seek protection at the Citadel—it had been one step ahead of the Reapers, jumping from relay to relay, but only barely. Ships were lost each time.

The matter of Shepard's new guests intrigued and riled virtually everyone. Requests to examine the two women with strange powers ("Sirens," they called themselves) were vehemently and sometimes very physically denied. The short, loud, gun-obsessed one ("Salvador") tried to buy weapons only to be told his "dollar" currency would not be accepted. Gaige, the engineering genius, quickly integrated herself among the quarians. New goal: a solution to the Republic's "running out of fuel" problem. The situation would have been comical if there weren't extra-galactic monsters attempting to harvest all life.

Three of the newcomers had the attitude of professional soldiers (Mordecai, Axton, and Athena). They began working with (and became as frustrated as) the United Defense Command's strategists to solve the hit-and-fade Reaper problem. The insane one, Krieg, was locked away babbling about using blood on pizzas until someone could figure out exactly what was _wrong_ with him. Finally, the man with as much presence as a Rhino APC (Brick) found work teaching hand-to-hand combat at a newly-established UDC infantry school.

The two Sirens eventually ended up on the _Normandy_. This resulted in the amusing situation of Joker being levitated out of his pilot's chair by Maya after an ill-advised comment. Fortunately for Joker's fragile skeleton, his "flight" was a whopping half-centimeter, after which he landed in the well-padded pilot station as if he'd never left. Asked afterward what caused the incident, he only would say he'd learned enough about Sirens to never speak ill of them again.

Despite the movement toward a more integrated galactic military response, the matter of Republic technology (as dependent as it was on materials seemingly not present in the land of mass relays) complicated the situation. All agreed dispersing advanced military technology would make managing the Reapers akin to dealing with lowlife pirates. Still no consensus on if or how to hand out the treats, though. The analysts responsible for name-calling virtually every Citadel race had been fired—but their replacements were similarly honest (though less insulting) about the lack of comity between the various species.

_Geth: Uninvolved in the affairs of organic races. Small faction loyal to Reapers ("Old Machines") wiped out in skirmish with UDC First Fleet. Communication with remaining geth through the platform Legion yielded limited results. Reapers not a direct threat, no reason to end isolationism. Believe integration into galactic society not possible due to attacks by creator quarians and general distrust by most organics of synthetic life. Invasion by synthetic Reapers not helpful._

_Turian: Militarily the most formidable race from the Citadel. However, distrust of humans hampers cooperation, especially given that the Republic is mainly human. Bad blood runs deep enough and resentment toward humans with superior technology is strong enough that the Turian Hierarchy insists on conducting operations at arms' length with no intelligence sharing. Adamantly against any changes that would "upset the balance of power" among Citadel species. Unusual biology (dextro-amino acids) makes common supply impossible. Homeworld held with slight difficulty._

_Asari: Strategy focuses on small teams of elite soldiers rather than large-scale deployment of armies or navies; no large fleet available despite possession of over twenty dreadnaught-scale vessels. Paradoxically, the Asari Republics possess the single most powerful Citadel ship, though it is out of commission due to a fight with the Reapers at Thessia. Believe integration of highly advanced technology should be done slowly despite the Reaper threat—disagrees with rapid deployment timetable presented by the Republic at first Galactic War Council. Strong "biotic" (form of telekinesis) potential in most individuals. Merits study. Homeworld subjected to limited Reaper attacks, otherwise secure._

_Krogan: Participation contingent upon Republic position on genophage being solidified, as the leader believes the Republic to be in possession of a cure. Friction with turians and salarians due to large-scale past conflicts. Salarian/turian leaders only willing to keep the krogan at the negotiating table because the current leader (Urdnot Wrex) is more levelheaded and rational than most members of his race. No space presence at all due to treaty restrictions—useful only as ground troops. Combination of Republic and Council Demilitarization Enforcement Mission (CDEM) forces secured homeworld._

_Salarian: Has suffered the least from Reaper attacks. Stealth technology found in the Alliance Normandy is deployed on salarian dreadnaught-class vessels, giving them a significant advantage despite their comparatively low (8 equipped of 16) numbers. Refuse to participate if krogan demand for genophage cure is met, though otherwise agree rapid deployment of advanced military hardware a must. Homeworld untouched by Reapers._

_Elcor: Primary military function has been ground support in past conflicts; little use for such roles here due to most conflicts taking place in space. Species is conservative by nature—agreeing with the slow-roll-out position held by asari. Homeworld secure._

_Volus: Most contributions have been monetary due to the volus form not being optimal for combat or construction (hence heavy automation). Volus dreadnaught heavily damaged defending homeworld—inclined to support the Republic position of fast deployment. See new technologies as creating immense economic opportunity. Homeworld secure._

_Batarians: Declined invitation to sit on Galactic War Council. Aggressive, volatile, and paranoid race—in possession of weapon capable of doing significant damage to Republic ships (moreso than Reapers). Considers the rest of the Citadel races to be in a conspiracy against them. Initially attacked Republic Battle Group—negotiated cease-fire; homeworld now secure. Navy believed to be mostly destroyed. Republic Battle Group left orbit after declaring homeworld secure as part of cease-fire agreement._

_Vorcha: No organized government to speak of. No official, species-wide position on any issue. Not present at Galactic War Council. Homeworld secure._

_Quarians: Planet-less nomad race. Spends entire lives in starships—required to exist in a sterile environment as a result. Will change in three to five generations (previous estimate overly optimistic) due to Republic gene therapy. Possess more ships than all other Citadel races combined, though many of these vessels are not designed for combat. Republic finds quarians most agreeable generally excepting aggression against geth. Natural talent for ship-related matters. Dextro-amino systems create supply problems. "Migrant Fleet" secure at Citadel._

_Humans: Greatest untapped military potential of all Citadel races (3% mobilization rate). Large fleet decimated by contact with Reapers, but formidable forces remain. Inexplicably genetically identical to us—this merits further investigation. Ships belonging to the humans of this galaxy would be the easiest to modify for anti-Reaper combat. Homeworld secure._

This time, Admiral Grayson personally released the summaries as a gesture of trust, rather than them being leaked. Emily Wong nabbed the choice story over rival correspondent Diana Allers. Even though the analysis hit many more positive and professional-sounding notes, some remained displeased.

Through the mess, the Turian Hierarchy finally managed to select a new (reluctant) Councilor. General Adrien Victus was elected (he would say "kicked upstairs") to fill Sparatus' old spot. Many suspected his elevation had more to do with disagreements over Victus' strategy and tactics rather than knack for politics. Victus would later join with Anderson in saying "Two crusty old military men forced into the roles of politicians. It's a wonder Council meetings didn't devolve into brawls." However, the new Councilor did have the effect of making the Citadel Council more military-minded (critics called it warmongering), and more amenable to using joint force. The two combat-experienced Councilors were also far more open to distribution of Republic technology than their civilian leaders or non-military Council counterparts.

Life settled into a somewhat routine cycle of repelling Reaper attacks, repairing damage, and readying for the next blow. Attrition began to wear on Republic hardware over the following few months, resulting in the decommissioning of several Star Destroyers to keep the rest of the fleet operational. Star Destroyer use of hyperdrive became a strictly rationed affair.

The four mothballed ships, _In the White Midwinter_, _Unquestioning Giver_, _Unflinching Devotion_, and the badly-damaged remains formerly known as _Eye of Hyperion_, were initially parked near the Citadel. This led to a humorous problem in which so many ships would queue up to get a good look at the silent behemoths that traffic control around the Citadel became impaired. As a result, the three still-functioning vessels were loaded with minimal provisions and sent to what had been renamed T'Soni Base I in orbit around Hagalaz. In what had become a sort of ritual, Sam Shepard returned aboard _Midwinter_ to pay her comatose friend a visit. Though one would not think it possible Tali'Zorah managed to also secure passage aboard the ship—along with Joker—by, incredibly, doing the best (and only) known incident of "puppy eyes" _from behind a mask_. Anna Erickson would never live it down. To save fuel, the massive battleships were assisted by space tugs, though since local engine technology generally assumed a starship's mass would be vastly reduced via the "mass effect," the big engines still had to fire. Net fuel savings: 0.7%.

During sublight on the way to the final relay, Joker (shaking so hard he had to see a doctor for minor fractures afterward) received the honor of piloting _Midwinter_. His fun was nearly derailed by a Cerberus agent instructed to capture the ship—however, the agent's placement assumed a skeleton crew. Specifically, a skeleton crew not containing Commander Samantha Shepard. As the blood drained from his face because of Shepard's vice-grip on his neck holding him high over her head, he saw the mask of calm slip as a burning rage shone through brighter than a star.

Joker would pilot the_ Normandy_ on the return trip; it had been magnetically slung to the _Midwinter_ due to the latter's lack of large hangers.

"It's like stealing a getaway shuttle that has a half-ounce of eezo" marveled Tali afterward. "How desperate are these people?"

Helpfully, Reaper attacks had _decreased_ since the Republic put several of its warships into storage. Four months after the Republic arrived, attacks were down to a few a week at most. Nine months post-Republic-arrival, the attacks ended.

* * *

Had the inhabitants of the Reaper-devastated galaxy known what was coming, they would have cursed their luck. Instead, celebrations broke out across many homeworlds. While the Republic no longer commanded god-like status among most inhabitants, the Battle Groups who selflessly protected many homeworlds were honored with parades, speeches, and elaborate feasts. The loss of colonies drew mourning, but no species had been wiped out—crops could be re-sown, homes rebuilt.

Digistruction technology permitted the rapid reassembly of Hyperion's ruined spaceport. Rebuilt at great speed (and expense) by a combination of Hyperion, Jakobs and Vladof forces, the new spaceport covered over ten times more ground than the original. Designed to launch vastly larger ships, the new link to the stars would be one of several start points for the combined JVLN (pronounced "javelin") forces. The vast ships stretched for kilometers in Pandora orbit, supplied by shuttles from the surface. Equipped with (relatively) more economical, though slower, superlight drives, these vessels would take six or more months to reach the target galaxy instead of the projected three months envisioned by the Slingshot Project. After the capture of said project's sole ship, Hyperion (and then JVLN) drastically moved up the launch timetable.

Loaded with another state-of-the-art digistruction plant and plans for every battle mech in the combined arsenal of JVLN, Operation _Restoring Order_ aimed to establish a foothold where Slingshot failed.


	25. Dark Tides

It was assumed the point of arrival used by Slingshot would have taken notice of the vessel if said system were to be inhabited. In a fit of paranoia, JVLN dictated its forces must use a different arrival angle—one that placed them in the "Kite's Nest" cluster of the target, in addition to sending a significant escort force along. Galactic rotation meant a slight shortening of distance to this target vs. the time Slingshot arrived, but because the galaxy in question rotated once about every 225 million years, the distances involved weren't really significant. The fleet dropped from superlight near what was believed to be a habitable garden planet.

The lead elements consisting of several heavy cruisers appeared first. The blocky, bulky ships bore distinct design elements marking them as Jakobs products. Ironically, this gave them the general aesthetics of a Tediore weapon at first glance, though Tediore did not manufacture spacecraft. Jakobs preferred armor over weapon-energy-draining shields. Scaling energy projection beyond the size of a small town remained problematic, though experimental Eridium-crystal based designs employed by Hyperion offered some protection to capital-scale ships.

"Looks clear" noted a sensor officer on the bridge of JSS _Stellar Sheriff_. "Signal the rest of the patrol to disengage cloak." _Iron Law_ and _Bandit's Bane_ appeared, having shut down their energy-draining invisibility systems.

"Two million klicks ahead—there's our planet!"

The inhabitants of Khar'shan would have disagreed with the statement, had they heard it.

The rest of the fleet's arrival followed shortly thereafter, having been timed to give the point ships a few minutes to look around.

First came the Jakobs supercarriers—looking like rectangular boxes with engines whose fronts tapered off in a triangular prism. Following the hybrid cargo/fighter vessels came capital-scale warships. Equipped with monstrous turrets flinging huge kinetic impacters, their thick armor and surprisingly powerful engines made them a force to be reckoned with despite rather bland appearances. Last to materialize in the Jakobs fleet were support type ships, including more heavy cruisers, frigates, destroyers, and smaller fleet-supply transports.

To prevent the entire fleet from being jumped, the rest of JVLN arrived at different positions, though still in the same system. From above, the formation resembled a large triangle: Jakobs at the front, with Hyperion making up the bottom-left and Vladof the bottom-right.

Hyperion's ships imitated no one (unless imitation of their own weapons counted), with angular construction, many (mostly-unnecessary) flared portions (some served as heat exchangers/solar panels), and a general vibe of "tried too hard to look futuristic." Their fleet focused on supercarriers, though a handful of battleships and fleet support accompanied the main force. Hyperion vessels utilized proprietary Eridum reactors, allowing them to power shield generators in addition to carrying heavy armor.

Vladof focused on one thing: more firepower. Thus, their vessels were best described as "Bolt life support and engines onto something carrying as many weapons as possible." If they hit you, you'd feel it. However, Vladof skimped on armor, so should the target survive, the attacking ship might be in for a world of hurt.

Overall, thirty supercarriers, fifty battleships, and hundreds of smaller craft moved as one in the JVLN fleet. Intercepted by a picket fleet crewed by some humanoid-looking aliens, the fleet tried to explain its purpose in hunting down fugitives from justice, its authority granted by the Corporate Asset Protection Act, etc. These reasonable requests were rebuffed with violence, so JVLN drove its point straight through the heart of the irritating aliens. One supercarrier actually sustained significant damage from some kind of yellow energy weapon mounted on several enemy cruisers, but escorts rapidly closed and eliminated the troublemakers.

Whoever calibrated the sensors indicating the planet the fleet now orbited was uninhabited would be fired. Out of a kinetic accelerator, into a black hole. Roughly a billion of the four-eyed aliens lived on the surface—which rightfully belonged to JVLN—so repossession operations began. Military doctrine disdained urban warfare despite the nearly unlimited supply of Loaders and BattleMechs that could be generated so long as the fleet had power—so precision orbital bombardment was used to forcibly evict resisting populations. That "evict" often meant "from this existence" did not bother JVLN in the least.

Had the Hegemony been on better terms with the Citadel races, someone might have noticed or cared about most comm buoys to Khar'shan going silent. As it stood, the assumption was that the delusional (it once claimed an economy rivaling the asari) government had simply decided to give the galaxy the silent treatment, _again_. The loss of several minor survey ships similarly failed to raise any alarms. Net result: JVLN had two months to establish itself undisturbed on a planet mostly emptied of its previous inhabitants save for a few hundred thousand kept around as slave labor.

* * *

The universe seemed to have a cosmic sense of karma, as the going-well nature of JVLN's establishment in G-6 coincided with things in G-3 getting worse than usual. From apparently nowhere, gigantic purple-black vessels bearing an extremely vague resemblance to a cross between a crab worm and spiderant appeared, attacking anything in their path. Disturbing changes were noted in areas where the ships landed—spiderants with Eridian cannons replacing their heads, bandits whose skulls split open to reveal some kind of biological spike launcher (with impalers for hands!), threshers which had somehow become even more dangerous than usual, horrible fusions of former Crimson Lance into eight-limbed "Laniders"… It was a horror show that caused even the creator of Skrakk to say "What the hell?"

Zed inexplicably declined to travel to the new galaxy—instead opting for a risky method to get back to Sanctuary. Finding an intact New-U Station a day's drive away from the remains of the spaceport, he re-enrolled himself after great effort (he was, after all, a doctor, not an engineer).

"Now I have no idea whether this will work" he dictated into an ECHO, "But if it doesn't, hopefully my body will still make it back!" Sliding the recorder into his pocket, he pulled out a pistol.

It wasn't a high-powered, super-sophisticated weapon like the types the Vault Hunters typically carried, but it would do. It was, after all, a Jakobs.

BANG.

"Thanks for using this Hyperion New-U station! Please die again!"

"Well that's certainly a weird way to arrive."

"Shut up, I don't even know you! Who stands next to New-U stations, anyway?" Zed ignored the random person and headed back to his clinic, which he'd left in the care of Sir Hammerlock.

Sanctuary welcomed the news that the Vault Hunters all survived the attack, hijacked Hyperion's starship and were on their way to a new (hopefully less crappy) galaxy.

"It surprises me Hyperion has made no effort to retaliate for the destruction of their moonbase or the theft of their most advanced ship. They are well-aware who committed both acts!"

"Oh come on Hammerlock, you know they're probably building some over-wrought super revenge device to blow us up, except it doesn't work because someone left a thermal vent open or something" replied Zed.

Despite tempting fate, absolutely nothing of note happened to Sanctuary for months, unless Scooter lighting his garage on fire (for the fifth time in as many months) tinkering with a faster variant of the Monster counted. The AON system fired up a few times to intercept token Hyperion rocket attacks, but since none of them hit, it didn't really rattle anyone.

Sure, the big corps were building something, and bandits kept yakking about some "javelin" project, but again, nothing involving Sanctuary or attacks against it.

Almost a year after the Vault Hunters departed, rakk dung hit the turbines. The sky turned black with the strange aliens. No one was sure if they were just ships, or if they might actually be alive. Their red eye-beams convinced some they were the harbingers of an apocalypse. Most disturbing of all, _Psychos_ began to act in an orderly fashion—creating what appeared to be prayer rings where they chanted about Vaults and Sirens (before being vacuumed up by the nearest nightmare machine).

"We have to get help!" shrieked Patricia Tannis in a rare moment of complete lucidity. "The Harvesters will kill us all!"

Assembled in a Tribunal, those left in charge of Sanctuary attempted to figure out their next move.

"How?" Michael Mamaril rarely fell into despair, except when faced with something so beyond the impossible no solutions (no matter how wacky) presented themselves. "The Harvesters are indestructible, and they constantly create armies of…I don't even know!"

"Well, we know what not to do! Let Dr. Zed handle the problem! Ahahahah—"

A well-aimed kick from Marcus silenced the little yellow robot. Technically, Claptrap was correct—the last time someone let Dr. Zed create twisted hybrid creatures, they attacked everything in sight. No one wanted to give the Harvesters more to work with, either.

"Does that interstellar radio still work?"

In response to Michael's question, Moxxi pulled the device down from the shelf. Strategy for saving the planet, formulated in a bar. Clearly the superior solution!

"You know, turnin' that thing on might bring them tentacled things right down on our heads!" drawled Scooter. "Cause, radio transmissions, and stuff!"

"We have to take the risk!" intoned Tannis.

"No. We do it as far away from Sanctuary as possible."

Marcus Kinkaid usually only cared about himself and his profits, but Sanctuary were destroyed—he'd lose at least _fifteen_ repeat customers. Also, Moxxi. But he wasn't going to use that as a justification, not out loud, anyway.

"But sugar, if we leave, what will happen to all these people?" She might not have been able to protect all her children, but Moxxi would not let the innocent inhabitants of this town become casualties of war. Not without a fight.

"Them monsters be swattin' everythin' that flies! So we best stay on the ground." As if to accentuate the point, the remains of a buzzard plowed into a rock outcropping, sliced in half by one of the red energy beams emitted by the nearest Harvester.

In a much less excited voice, Scooter noted "Also, those flyin' crabworms destroyed most of the Fast Travel system and jammed the New-U stations."

"Despite the danger, Scooter is right" intoned Michael. "We take vehicles and everyone from this town. We activate the radio, then we drive like our lives depend on it. Because they will. Everyone's lives, not just ours. We will fight for Pandora, we will fight for the lost!"

Despite showing little emotion, the intensity in his voice pulled everyone along like a riptide current. Just as the citizens of Sanctuary banded together to send the Vault Hunters off, so did they unite in the face of the biggest threat Pandora had ever seen. Only this time, a furious calm settled over them. No war whoops, chants, or cheers—every citizen gave it his or her all, because there might not be a tomorrow. Even Tiny Tina somehow remained serious.

Standing on an upturned red chest, Mamaril gave final instructions to the citizens of Sanctuary.

"We are leaving Sanctuary behind forever" began Michael. "You are allowed one small personal possession—the rest of our space must be dedicated to food, water, and supplies."

"You are volunteering for a mission that is almost certain to result in your death" he continued. "We face the abyss, and when it comes, we will go gladly to it knowing we have done all we can to prevent others from sharing our fate."

"All who accept this challenge, step forward."

As one, Sanctuary's inhabitants put their right feet in front of their left.


	26. Message on a Carrier Wave

A routine Republic patrol was the first to notice. Khar'shan disappeared from the star maps—replaced by a planet identifying itself as "Angel's Cradle."

_What in the hell?_

Alexsis Kazansky, Captain of RNS _Star Paladin_, had served through the mess that was the "Rannoch Incident." Her steadfast refusal to accept anything less than a total cease-fire from both sides earned the grudging respect of the quarians and cooperation from the geth.

Though the politicians were ultimately responsible for handling any attempts to integrate synthetics into galactic society, a negotiated peace over Rannoch came about due to the efforts of Samantha Shepard, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy (later changed to "vas Rannoch"), and the geth gestalt Legion. As the supervising neutral commanding office, Kazansky's six ships ensured everyone involved remained honest, peaceful and well-intentioned during the treaty crafting process. That the Republic vessels carried names such as "Veritas" or "Uplifter of Righteousness" added a level of symbolism to the proceedings.

Now, she found herself staring down the barrel of a _very_ big gun mounted on a ship type she'd never seen before. Backed up by the quarian-geth built battlecruisers _Unity_ and _Harmony_, she hoped for a solution that didn't involve testing the new UVHM (UltraViolet Heat Multiplexer) weapon developed for these two new vessels.

After the arrival of "those guys from G-3," the ship that carried them in was salvaged by the Systems Alliance. In the first gesture of peacetime comity between races since the turian-human _Normandy_ project, the Alliance passed the specifications of its communications array along to all other Citadel members "in the interest of keeping comm lines open between all species." Of particular interest were advanced quantum-entanglement superluminal communications systems that far exceeded capabilities carried by most Citadel vessels. They kept the juicier bits (mainly its engine) for themselves. No one noticed, since the Alliance had the only official records of the ship's existence.

Due to this generosity, both _Star Paladin_ and her escorts were easily able to open communications with the apparent newcomers.

"Alexsis Kazansky, RNS _Star Paladin_. We're on a routine patrol and were not aware this system had changed hands. Please identify yourselves."

"Admiral Stan Shunpike here—we are JVLN's _Restoring Order_ fleet. We seek the extradition of terrorists we believe may have infiltrated your galaxy."

She still couldn't get over some inhabitants hailing from galaxies away speaking the same language she did. It made no sense, but hey, it was one less thing to get wrong.

"Where are the natives of this system, the batarians?" She got a very bad feeling about what the answer would be.

"We repossessed their planet." As if commenting on starship maintenance or similarly-obvious items.

"I was unaware of standing extra-galactic claims on planets or systems residing in this galaxy" came the cool response.

"Now, we don't want any trouble—just tell us if the fugitives from justice we seek are present in this galaxy and you can be on your way."

Shunpike couldn't believe these people. Here he was, making a relatively simple, routine request—and getting mouthed at for it.

Seeing who this Admiral Shunpike was after, Kazansky had to stop herself from laughing. Terrorists? These people? Brick, a noted special instructor at the United Defense Command Academy? Athena, the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Internal Auditor? She found the characterization of Maya as a threat to be the most hilarious. Maya was only a threat if you tried to place a hold on a book she wanted! (That the woman still actually read paper books made the situation even funnier.)

Knowing there would likely be no reasoning with these people, she elected for a selective answer. "I have no knowledge of the terrorists you speak of."

This produced precisely the opposite effect of what Alexsis was going for. "Then I'm sure you'll have no problem with us verifying the veracity of your statements. Hand over complete dumps of your computer cores and prepare to be boarded."

"That won't be possible as it is a violation of—"

She got her answer in the form of several kinetic impacters slamming into _Star Paladin_'s forward armor. One shot crumpled a dorsal heavy turret in on itself, twisting the barrels inward until their tips touched.

"Raise shields, return fire from forward guns." Hailing _Unity_ and _Harmony_, Kazansky asked the unnecessary question of whether they "saw that."

The two captains had. Geth technology automatically brought the battlecruisers to fighting state upon detecting hostile fire directed at a friendly ship. The split-second advantage over manual commands issued aboard _Star Paladin_ meant the munitions headed for the quarian-geth cooperative projects splashed harmlessly off barriers raised microseconds before.

Shunpike turned red-faced to his weapons officer. His voice barely registered. "Did I order you to fire?"

"No, sir."

PWHIP.

The officer slumped with a hole in his forehead from a silenced Jakobs revolver. "Remove this carcass, and return fire." Even though he'd not personally sought out confrontation, even though he knew not everyone who opposed JVLN necessarily supported the terrorists, he wouldn't let his ship be shot from underneath him.

"Captain! I'm not detecting energy shields aboard the vessel that fired on us!"

"Then this will be even easier than those Reapers." Alexsis Kazansky wasn't nicknamed "Ice Eyes" for nothing—though not by nature a violent or ill-willed person, she fought with absolute ruthlessness when necessary. Her eyes betrayed nothing more than absolute concentration while she issued clipped orders to her bridge crew.

"Use the forward guns—take advantage of the quick-cycle. Operations, eject that damaged turret to clear the line of fire for our other dorsal weapons. Reroute power from energy shields to particle shields; they don't have energy weapons either. Try to disable their main guns."

No muzzle-flashes were emitted by magnetically-powered kinetic launchers. Shunpike watched his forward guns fire at maximum power—a low-velocity shot had destroyed one of the intruder's weapons. These would punch nice holes through…

"Sir! Massive damage to the outer starboard cannon! The barrel's fused, sir!"

"They punched through our armor?" Shunpike had drilled countless times on this situation, except reality diverged from the simulation with every passing second.

"They didn't punch through it." The ensign's breath seemed to have been taken away. "Sir, they _boiled it off_. It's gone, sir."

Shunpike stepped back as if slapped. 900.1cm of battle plate boiled away from a single strike? Energy weapons on this scale were supposed to be impossible, save for theorized Eridian devices.

In the few seconds he was having this thought, alarms wailed. Status displays went red, showing cascading system failures from repeated energy strikes. A life support tank ruptured, igniting from the heat of a turbolaser. This showed the power of enemy weapons as life-support batteries were buried deep inside the heart of the ship under many layers of armor.

"Incoming transmission!"

"If you demand to board us" came the accented voice, "You better have the means to carry it out lest you suffer the consequences from making empty threats. Let this be a lesson."

The transmission, and the blonde woman, disappeared.

* * *

Sanctuary's evacuation proceeded in a relatively orderly fashion. The twenty-seven inhabitants (and Claptrap) loaded into seven Lancers and dropped down to Pandora's surface. Unlike the Vault Hunters, this vehicle group encountered no resistance—driving past circles of chanting Psychos, paralyzed spiderants, and dead rakk.

After putting some distance between themselves and the floating city, Scooter worked with Hammerlock to fire up the radio.

"Needs a lot o' juice" commented the master of all things automotive.

Indeed it did—as it simultaneously drew power from four Lancers at once.

"Start transmission" commanded Mamaril. "Maximum power."

"If you are hearing this, consider yourself warned" began Moxxi.

"They are coming" continued Hammerlock. "Great starships whose goal is to twist life into their own image."

"This transmission originates from Galaxy G-3 in the Local Gamma Cluster" finished Mamaril. "We are asking for anybody receiving this message to help us. Coordinates are embedded in this carrier wave."

A deep, reverberating sound flattened the Sanctuary convoy with its power, knocking everyone to the ground. If a Harvester could be called small, this one was (well, relative to the other nearby specimens)—and it landed on top of the hapless group.

"I thought so!" hollered Scooter.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Scooter's ashes floated away on the breeze created by the Harvester's movement as it stepped on an idling Lancer.

"Scooter!"

"No time, _move!_" Marcus shoved the stricken Moxxi into the nearest Lancer, jumped in and floored it. Everyone who didn't get caught in the next sweep of the machine's beam (BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR) made beelines for the nearest vehicle.

Over the comm, Michael Mamaril urged his remaining people forward.

"What are we supposed to do?" yelled Tina. Mamaril had to carry her, sobbing and curled in the fetal position, to his Lancer before departing.

Another Lancer vaporized courtesy of the towering machine's beam weapon.

"We head for The Fridge. Hope we can dodge that thing underground!"

During the journey to the Fridge, the convoy of five Lancers was reduced to two by Harvester and Harvester-influenced wildlife attacks. Survivors included Moxxi, Marcus, Mamaril, Tannis, Zed, two citizens, and annoyingly enough, Claptrap.

A sobbing Moxxi laid Tiny Tina's mutilated body on an ice shelf. She'd jumped out to repair a damaged Lancer gun, only to be attacked by a huge mutated rakk—carried high into the sky, then dropped from a sickening height. Expecting to have to beat back Rats, she drew Rubi (her one personal possession).

Instead, she found herself face-to-face with one Laney White, half-human, half-rat.

"The giant robotssssss do not come here!" she hissed. "You are sssssssafe."

Choking on emotion and holding a wavering Rubi, Moxxi threatened "If you or your filthy companions touch her…"

Without any further words, Laney turned and disappeared into the Fridge.

* * *

Some in Shepard's crew expressed worry regular visits to Liara might throw the Commander back into depression. On the contrary, she responded "It reminds me of what we're fighting for."

This particular trip turned into a lengthy stopover due to dropping off the Republic's ships-to-mothball. Research finally revealed how the Republic might modify its shields to better mitigate the lightning gun mounted on batarian cruisers—of course, there being no batarian ships left at the time carrying the weapon made the discovery useless for the moment.

Reminiscing with Garrus aboard the _Normandy_, Shepard received a page from EDI.

"Do you ever _not_ interrupt conversations?" she teased.

"If you would prefer it, I will refrain from sharing information with you until you are clearly unoccupied."

"No thanks, I'll take the interruptions. What is it?"

"Shepard, I have received an encoded transmission from the G-3 galaxy. It appears to have been corrupted in transit. I will attempt to restore the contents."

"_If you are hearing this-*static*-are coming-*static*-twist life into their own image. This transmission originates from-*static*-anybody receiving this message to help us-*static*-carrier wave."_

An exact depiction of the transmission location, down to the star system, appeared on the galaxy map.

"Good thing the location was embedded in the carrier wave, huh?" she asked EDI.

"I would most likely have been able to deduce its origin down to a few parsecs even without the extra encoding" replied the A.I.

"What would we do without you, EDI?"


	27. The Anvil Shatters

The latest meeting of the Citadel Council revolved around yet another report from Sam Shepard.

Turning to Anderson, newly-elevated Councilor Victus remarked on the tendency of Shepard to be involved if the galaxy's fate were hanging in the balance.

"That does seem to be the pattern, Councilor" replied the weary admiral. "If there's a problem, Shepard is either in the middle of it or butting heads with it."

"Let us return to the matter before us" consoled Tevos. "Another galaxy is supposedly under attack, and Samantha Shepard believes the force to be the Reapers. Do we act on this? If so, what can we do?"

"That is a very pertinent question" responded Valern. "Our allies, the Republic, are showing the effects of a prolonged campaign without any resupply. Their bodies are willing; their hardware is not."

"I wish I could say I believed the Reapers were gone" sighed Anderson. "Part of me wants to dismiss it as some echo in the void, but every time Sam Shepard's raised an alarm, she's been right."

The two original Councilors covered embarrassed looks. Thanks in no small part to Sparatus's fanatic disbelief in anything Shepard said, civilization stood unprepared when the Reapers first arrived. Their saving grace had been random chance—the arrival of the Trans-Galactic Republic.

"Should we attempt to contact Cluster authorities?"

Tevos again found herself incredulous at her own statement (she noticed this happening with increasing frequency).

"In theory, that's what we're supposed to do." Anderson brought up a datagram which had arrived at the end of the Reaper attacks.

_The Local Cluster Council is gratified to see your galaxy has repulsed this external threat. We believe this issue to be resolved; if there are further movements against your sovereignty, please submit a request to convene a meeting._

Before anyone could speak again, a symbol seen only rarely dominated all computer screens. The same lockdown procedure used for off-the-record discussions was followed again—including the first use of Victus's special Councilor code (tau-nine-one-alpha-mu-zero). The same very generic hooded figure three Councilors had laid eyes on only once appeared before them.

The heavily processed voice began a monologue.

"It appears we were incorrect in our assessment of the situation. The threat believed extinguished has reappeared, menacing a different member of the Gamma Cluster. Significant damage, more than we usually tolerate prior to staging an intervention, has occurred. The Trans-Galactic Republic has offered to intervene on Cluster authority, however its fleet will take years to arrive."

"The Republic's fleet got here nearly instantly the first time!" interjected Anderson. "Why can't they do the same thing again?"

Reacting as if to a child who demanded to know the purpose of bedtime, the Cluster Councilor replied: "There are many things at work beyond your level of comprehension. The Republic's forces have been held back by complications."

_Raise your hand if you hate non-answer answers_ thought Anderson.

"The Republic protected you from this threat. The Council and Union only hold together if everyone participates to the best of their ability."

The visage faded, the armor retracted, and light streamed back into the Council chambers. A silence followed.

"They want us to help" said Valern slowly. "They want us to help!" Valern's voice sped up and rose in volume the second time.

"Seeing the discord caused by minor technological advances, do we really want to find out the consequences of a full-fledged overnight advancement in military science?"

Tevos hoped the question would spur discussion. Instead, she got a one-word answer from her three fellow Councilors.

"Yes."

Shepard found herself roused from an afternoon nap by a Council summons. For some unexplained reason, the summons specified she should appear in person, rather than over hologram.

_Normandy_ returned to the Citadel from Hagalaz. Whispers of the Council preparing to take extraordinary action led to all sorts of insane rumors flying around. Some examples: uplifting the yahg, curing the genophage, allying with Cerberus, abolishing the Treaty of Farixen, creating a Spectre-level standing army, or sending official envoys to the geth/quarians.

* * *

News of this movement toward unity combined with distribution of advanced technology irked the Illusive Man—he would die and take Cerberus with him before he permitted a coalition of aliens to assemble wielding such power. Cerberus thus took advantage of the situation resulting from yet another faction arriving in the galaxy by sweeping up what was left of the batarian navy. The fall of Khar'shan left the batarians leaderless. A massive Cerberus fleet swept into other batarian-controlled systems, including the Bahak system in which the Hegemony had been covertly storing many warships disguised as colony vessels.

A good number of these vessels featured the "lightning gun," and, befitting their status as mothballed "colony" ships, possessed only skeleton crews. Communication with the former Khar'shan had been so bad even before the arrival of JVLN that nobody in the Bahak system took note of not hearing anything from Hegemony command for months. Thus, the final significant amount of war material belonging to the batarian state fell into the hands of a human-supremacist organization.

Coordinates in the navicomputers of several captured vessels were suggestive of a hidden arms cache around the former Khar'shan (now called "Angel's Cradle"). A Cerberus task force dispatched to this system ran headlong into JVLN defense fleets, leading to a tense standoff.

"How many weirdos are there in this galaxy?" marveled Captain Boone of JSS _Iron Horse_. First his fellow dreadnaught _Alamo_ took a massive beating at the hands of a ship belonging to the "Trans-Galactic Republic" (further research indicated this faction was not of this galaxy, and their forces were thus limited). Now, he faced a new group calling themselves "Cerberus." Interestingly, this Cerberus had many vessels of batarian design in their fleet—the Hegemony must have had part of its navy stored away from Angel's Cradle as the entire navy was believed to have been completely destroyed. When JVLN arrived, there wasn't much of a navy _left_ due to previous attacks by a force called the "Reapers."

It later turned out Cerberus and JVLN shared at least one common goal: the destruction of those sheltering the "terrorists" sought by JVLN as part of _Restoring Order_. Different reasons for the same goals—an alliance, though temporary, would serve in both parties' interests. Cerberus confirmed the suspicion JVLN already had—the non-humans in this galaxy were not, generally, trustworthy. Behind a benevolent mask of maintaining order, these aliens schemed to limit the advancement of humanity, fearing what humanity might accomplish if left unchecked.

In information exchanges, Cerberus learned a great deal about other galaxies beyond the one it originated in—galaxies offering vast economic opportunity alongside this "JVLN" force. In return, JVLN could make excellent use of Cerberus investments to expand its power base back home. Most of the negotiations ended up being surprisingly easy—the announcement to both sides commemorating what became a more formal, longer-lasting coalition even made note of "the lack of usual frictions in accommodating the needs of multiple parties." The single sticking point ended up being choosing a name for the resulting group.

Ultimately, after many hours, the compact specified the formation of "Sapiens Shield" (since "spear" suggested the group was warlike when its only intention was "defending the interests of humanity"). Some commented most of the effort had been expended on ensuring the title contained alliteration. Those involved in name selection declined to comment.

Aside from the damaged _Alamo_ and a few minor scratches from the batarian planetary repossession, JVLN's portion of the new Sapiens Shield fleet stood in mint condition. Cerberus controlled a significant navy as well, bolstered by formerly-batarian lightning gun cruisers and a few home-built lightning cruisers following Cerberus designs. Its ships had seen more combat, but were perfectly serviceable. In what could only be described as wanton cruelty, batarian slaves held by JVLN were forced to repaint the hulls of Cerberus starships (because millimeter paint chips were unacceptable) before being used for target practice by Sapiens gunners. Betting pools formed in reaction to this event.

The final fleet tally racked up rather large numbers. Like a king reviewing his ships, the Illusive Man watched combined fleet maneuvers. Humanity would rise, and nothing would stop it. Cerberus brought four dreadnaughts, two carriers, twenty lightning cruisers, eighty standard cruisers, two hundred frigates, and assorted support craft to the alliance. Many carried unconventional armaments allowing them to punch far above their weight. Combined with the JVLN fleet, it qualified as one of the single strongest (for its technological level) human-controlled assemblies of force in existence.

None of this negated the "Revenant Problem," though. Sapiens Shield forces were well-aware of the power embodied in this one ship—one ship which held off hundreds of Reapers almost single-handedly. Ships on the technological level of the Citadel races (which Sapiens begrudgingly admitted it mostly was) could not hope to challenge it. Thus, it had to be drawn away, disabled, or (cue fantasy) captured.

"Or we could just use the oldest trick in the book." Kai Leng wasn't a top Cerberus operative for nothing. "They can't kill what they can't shoot."

A ship such as _Revenant_ simply had to utilize computer control for most of its systems—it came with the territory of being 35,000 meters in length. Gun batteries would only fire at approved targets, so if the Sapiens Shield fleet could declare themselves invalid targets (friendlies), it would buy them time to attack the Citadel itself. Even energy weapons had to be concerned with inadvertent friendly fire—especially weapons as powerful as those mounted on _Revenant_. Thus, if the Sapiens fleet could position themselves between _Revenant_ and the Citadel without being vaporized first, it might reduce the volume of fire coming from the big battlewagon once it inevitably rotated its IFF codes to defeat the spoof.

Obtaining Republic IFF codes would be the hard part. In the meantime, various double-agents slowly infiltrated the Council administration and several Republic projects, including T'Soni Base I. A few agents were caught, tried and punished. However, many, especially those based on the Eva Coré synthetic infiltrator unit, went undetected.

* * *

"Am I dreaming?" Samantha Shepard swayed on her feet in the Council Chambers.

"Answer the question, Shepard" replied Anderson, unusually stern.

"I just want to be totally clear on this." Dragging each word out, she savored the experience. She knew she was being bitchy, and she totally didn't care. She was _enjoying_ it. "The Council summoned me here to ask _my_ opinion, _in person_, on whether there is a 'Reaper problem' (air quotes, both hands) in this other galaxy?"

"Yes." It was a very good thing asari faces did not show obvious signs of humiliation the way humans did.

"And, if I say yes…?"

Through pursed lips, Valern replied unusually slowly for a salarian "We will accept your council at face value and act accordingly."

Sam resisted the urge to jump up and down. She did, however, punch the air with a fist.

"**Yes**. There IS a Reaper problem. Here, there, and possibly everywhere!" The last portion became very sing-songy. "Thank you for noticing!" Emphasis on the phrase "thank you" suggested a heavy level of sarcasm.

Raising her hands into the air, Sam loudly declared "I'm Commander Shepard, and _this is my favorite room on the Citadel!_" Giving up on any pretense of decorum, she hopped in happiness several times before an aide gently turned her around and led her out.

Turning covertly to Anderson, Victus whispered "Is she normally this…self-assured?"

Realizing he didn't have time to tell the whole story (and deigning it a bad idea to do so in the presence of the rest of the Council) Anderson responded "No, she's not. I'll tell you more later."

"This is Emily Wong, ANN. Today, the Council issued a **stunning** edict, shattering all previous policy by declaring all Citadel races were to cooperate with the Trans-Galactic Republic in construction of an extra-galactic expeditionary force to protect another galaxy under attack by what are believed to be Reapers. Due to the anticipated surge of extremely advanced technology from this endeavor, tech and military stocks tripled in value during morning trading."

James Vega's eyes were glued to the TV screen at the breakfast place he'd gone to with other members of the _Normandy_ crew. Like many, his investments had suddenly ballooned. "Did you see the extranet video?" he asked to the general crowd.

"I've got it!" exclaimed Tali. "It's on my omni-tool!" Even though no compatible food was on offer, she preferred socializing to being alone in the engine room.

Tali held up her arm and the heavily-tuned song began to play.

_Here! There! Everywhere!  
__Reaper problem.  
__Here. Thank you._

_Am I dreaming?  
__Answer the question!  
__Reaper problem._

_Yes. Yes. Yes.  
__Totally clear. Reaper problem.  
__We will accept your council._

_Reaper problem.  
__Reaper problem.  
__R-R-R-R-Reaper problem._

_Thank you._

Video footage of Commander Shepard's last appearance before the Council went viral quickly. Edited versions cropped up faster than krogan babies before the genophage. Many synced "Here, there, and possibly everywhere" with her jump routine, though this was hardly the only mashup. Others were still images of her "favorite room on the Citadel" with her "raised hands" proclamation superimposed (a strip club, a casino, the asari Consort's quarters, a room frequently seen in porn films including the infamous black couch, and more).

Tali's fellow crew suddenly began staring at her as if they could see through her helmet, or perhaps she'd grown an extra appendage.

"Uhh, guys?"

No one said a word.

"Laugh it up, Tali."

Commander Shepard stood behind her hooded crewmate. Clearly trying hard to look serious, she was nevertheless struggling not to burst out laughing.

She tried for a stern voice anyway. "If you're going to humiliate me in public, you should play that again. Maybe ten more times." The "scolding" tone evaporated by the end of the sentence.

Sam needn't have bothered asking Tali, because all around, omni-tools were lighting up. They were started at different times, so snippets of the song could be heard out of order.

"_Reaper problem."_

"_Accept your council."_

"_Reaper problem."_

"_Thank you."_

"_R-R-R-R-Reaper problem."_

"_Am I dreaming?"_

"_Reaper problem."_

_"Answer the question."_

"_Reaper problem."_

"_R-R-R-R-Reaper problem."_

At the same time, other patrons realized who stood in their midst. What was supposed to be a half-hour breakfast turned into a two-hour affair as hordes of fans asked for autographs, impressions, and dance-imitations of the video from the real thing ("Shepard, you know you can't dance" laughed Garrus).

FZZZT!

"Well, look who's back!"

"Says Miss Invisible" replied Garrus, as the person he was speaking to decloaked. "Where in all six galaxies have you been, Kasumi?"

"I've been here and there. Looks like the Commander is finally over her depression!"

Garrus decided not to bother asking how Kasumi knew about that. He'd probably find out more than he wanted to know.

"Well look who it is!"

There was no mistaking that voice. Sam turned to see Jack (much more clothed than expected) along with Brick and some eager young students.

"Obviously, this kind of crowd only gathers to watch Shepard humiliate herself, since she can't dance for shit."

"Nice to see you too Jack. Sometimes, I wish I had Liara around to keep track of you people!"

"That little blue doll wouldn't be able to keep track of me" replied Jack, insulted.

"You disappeared, and now what are you doing?" Shepard really had no earthly clue where the tattooed woman had gone after she came back one day from Citadel shore leave to find Jack's basement hovel at the bottom of _Normandy_ empty.

"She ended up here, at the United Defense Command Academy" added Brick enthusiastically. "She trains 'em to punch enemies from across the room, I train 'em to punch so hard they land across the room!"

"Go team Psychotic Biotic!" shouted one of the children.

"Iron Ab Slabs are the best!" retorted another.

"Heh, kids" laughed Brick. "They're so competitive—all in good fun though, right slabs?"

In an exaggerated stage whisper, Jack turned to her students. "The minute he turns his back, I want his spleen on the ceiling!"

"I heard that! C'mon kids, we gotta go!"

"Good to see you Shepard! If you come to the club with me after hours, I can show you some real moves!" Jack hesitatingly waved goodbye before shooing her students along behind Brick.

_It's good to see Jack's found something to do with herself other than destroy things. Jack, a role model—looks like my perception of her is shattered into a million little pieces._

Shepard smiled. For once, things had a chance to go well, both on a galactic level and for her personally.

_Maybe we can solve this Reaper problem_.


	28. Erector Set

It seemed the entire galaxy held hands and sang "Kumbaya" for the half a year (after some prodding)—well, held hands, sang and danced as if hopped up on stimulants since everything moved at a ludicrous speed. Working with quarian machinists, the Republic integrated element zero cores into its ships. What seemed like an awesome idea (reduce mass to zero, engage hyperdrive at full power) proved to be a very poor choice, resulting in the destruction of yet another Star Destroyer (_Regal River_). Still, significant reductions in effective mass could be had—solving the fuel problem for the foreseeable future as vastly lighter Destroyers required far less energy to move, meaning the existing stock would last many years. Eezo-based artificial gravity drew noticeably less power than traditional Republic grav-plating, as well. Net savings of 15% at idle were noted.

Volus fabrication units combined with turian efficiency, human unconventional thinking and asari testing standards coupled to a fast-design system built by Gaige with Tali's assistance produced a virtual erector set of plug-and-play starship parts. Salarian scientists, able to remember every possible combination and calculate its outcome using simulation systems originally designed for the genophage, produced piles of versatile, efficient designs for every fleet niche. Even the vorcha metaphorically participated through an adaptive testing process mimicking vorcha adjustments to new environments.

Applying these newfound principles to existing quarian/geth designs created stunning vessels of incredible power.

"Isn't it funny" began Tali, speaking to Garrus in the _Normandy_'s now-turbolaser-equipped main battery, "that the Republic was all about grafting its technology onto our ships—and here we are doing the reverse?"

"I forget, is this one of those things you think is ironic but it isn't?"

"That depends on the definition you choose" intoned EDI. "This does not qualify as Socratic, verbal, dramatic, or tragic irony. However, an argument could be made for situational or cosmic irony, though this is entirely a matter of opinion."

"_Thank you_, EDI" sighed Tali.

Incidentally, the _Normandy_ received significant Republic upgrades. Dual forward turbolasers with double the range and quadruple the damage of the Thanix Cannons they replaced, a compact VGR-1 reactor unit wedged between the Tantalus Drive Core and the pressure hull where the fusion plant used to be, and experimental energy-absorbing shields. Javelin Torpedoes were left alone, as "they pack nearly the power of a midrange proton warhead."

Not all upgrades were so simple to implement. Even though the design process was supposed to be very meritocratic with only the absolute best ideas rising to the top, heated discussions broke out anyway. Two designs, of equal value to the computer, would be assigned _differing_ values by various groups within the overall starship construction bureau. This often resulted from situationally-valuable vessels whose worth depended on specific variables not accounted for automatically.

"There. Is. No. Room" insisted the turian shipmaster. "You cannot install that reactor inside a human dreadnaught without unacceptably reducing the size of the mass effect core!"

"Without sufficient reactor power, the main superlaser in the design will not function" retorted the salarian.

"A big gun does no good if the ship can't get itself out of trouble!" he snapped back.

Shepard, Tali, Gaige, and a few Republic representatives wandered around the cavernous area within the Citadel designated "Ship Enrichment, Technology Transfer, and Lightspeed Enhancement" Center. Only afterward did anyone notice that the designs herein were anything but "SETTLE"d.

Of course, arguing over how to build ships remained superior to debating whether to build them at all, as had been par for the course prior to what had been dubbed "Shepard-tante."

In what seemed to be some sort of cosmic pattern, Samantha Shepard's words moved more minds than the biggest Republic battle group, old grudge, or rifle-in-face. Just because the Council said "Everyone cooperate and play nice" didn't mean anyone wanted to stick their necks out. At least not at first.

After her somewhat unusual performance before the Council, Sam recorded a little uplifting rant, if it could be called that, and stored it away.

"Okay, this is going to sound a little ridiculous, but since no one is hearing this it doesn't matter. To be completely honest, I'd think I was still in elementary education, the way everybody is jostling over who gets the shiniest toys. We just got _invaded_ and the biggest concern is whether someone you might not like got a fancy new skycar? For the love of whatever's sacred to you, grow up!

Sometimes, people turn into walking negative stereotypes because they're playing the part assigned to them by expectations! Give someone a chance, and maybe they'll turn out to be different than what you thought. If I'd acted the way most galactic governments are now on Virmire, Urdnot Wrex would be dead—and the krogan with him. Yes, my petty need to think 'Ha! Just another krogan merc!' would have been satisfied, but at what cost? Sometimes, the simplest statements can change your entire perspective—'Because all humans are different, but all krogan act and think exactly alike.' It doesn't even have to be humans and krogan! Hell, it could be batarians and vorcha for all I care! The point is, this ridiculous crap has to stop.

Just because you've been on the stage the longest doesn't mean you know how the entire script will play out, or who to cast for what part. Let the newcomers have a chance! Sometimes, there's more to a person, or species, than what can be gleaned spying on them in the shower. Try talking honestly face to face for once! Sure, your life runs by the clock, everything's precise and orderly—great! Some of us don't do that, and it doesn't make us lesser. Wealth isn't the only motivator either. Some of us just live to live; so what if there's a little imbalance in the ledger? Not everything needs to "pay off" right away! Or ever! And if you make a mistake, just own up to it. Stop trying to blame your ancestors, claim the mantle of only reasonable person, or pretend to be the injured party when everyone knows you both started it. On that note, there's no reason to be so stuck up because your species set a new record for fastest-development-to-use-of-eezo! Who cares? It's just a sore point! There's no need to harp on how much quicker your feet are at the dance!

Almost everyone has more than one side to them, and if we're going to pull some massive cavalry charge we need everybody at their very best! Whole galaxies are at stake, and we're arguing. Bickering. Dividing. Instead of focusing on what makes each of us great, we're tearing each other down. We're better than this—I know it.

We have a chance, one chance, one shot at building a shining city on the hill. Instead of recognizing how we can combine our talents, we're fighting over whose talents are better even though we need them all! Do we have to settle for this petty garbage? Do you like living in the pages of some trashy soap opera? I sure as hell don't. And I say it ends today!"

After recording, she played it back. "Wow, do I really sound like that?"

Closing the file, she left her quarters. Little did she know that yet another building block toward a better galaxy would have "S. Shepard" stamped on it, nor did she realize she'd saved the file to \\NORMANDY\General Storage rather than \\NORMANDY\Shepard.

Later the same day, a new video began to surge—threatening the number-one position of "Reaper Problem." The video had no catchy title as its upload had been committed without changing the default name ("Vid1523_06212_2187"). Its views grew exponentially, and groups featuring titles such as "What Would Shepard Do?" and "Sam I Am" appeared organically. Within one standard week, mass protests broke out across many heavily-populated worlds.

An unexpected attack against an asari colony, tragically the same which had suffered severe damage from the destruction of RNS _Force of Justice_, cemented the general mood of "stand strong, stand together." Rumor had it human-centric extremists were behind the attack. Alliance politicians quickly condemned the event as an "isolated incident perpetrated by desperate elements trying to stall the galaxy's progress toward harmony." Unlike past incidents, the human government caught very little flak. The Alliance put on a big show trial, utilizing a rare death sentence to make an example of those found to be responsible.

Donnel Udina remarked "This attack on our ally's planet has left scars. But our resolve has never been stronger! We stand with the Asari Republics!"

* * *

"This is Emily Wong for ANN. The third mass protest outside the embassies has reached a new record in size. The most notable aspect of the protests is the composition—no one race seems to dominate, nor is any one individual a constant spokesperson. I spoke with a turian today who refused to give his name—he said he didn't understand how governments supposedly representing the people could be so out of touch, fixating on issues like Relay 314 that aren't relevant to most people anymore after the Reaper attacks. That's the general vibe I've gotten from every single individual I have spoken to. Asari, hanar, drell, elcor, salarian, quarian, human, krogan, even batarian. This has been Emily Wong for ANN. Back to you, Horace."

"If anyone tried to get everyone to stand in some kind of hippie circle and sing on Pandora, they'd all be dead" noted Mordecai, turning away from the TV. He, Axton, and Athena shared a table in the officer's lounge at UDC's academy.

"One speech! One friggin' speech, and suddenly the entire galaxy gets its mind back."

"You forgot the attack on the asari colony" commented Athena sardonically.

He sighed. "The only reason we survived is because we worked together in the biggest shithole to ever exist." Taking another swig from his beer, Mordecai continued on a bit of a rant. "Seems like the cushy lives these people lead means they have to have their heads held in the skag den before they snap out of it and realize they're not as different as they thought. You can't just run your whole life on assumptions—if we did, Krieg would be dead. Hell, I'd probably be dead too. Lilith was completely convinced she didn't need us until we talked her down…"

"Sometimes I miss the simplicity." Axton reminisced about times when the only question was "explosions." The answer? Yes.

"We might actually have a chance now, though." Mordecai finally began to show the impact of five shots, two beers, and half of a third. "Seriously, this big fleet they're gonna build—we could break the corporations! We could finally set Pandora free!"

"I never took you for a politician, Mordy."

"Oh shut up, Axton…"

* * *

Three weeks after her little speech leaked (nobody had taken credit for releasing it thus far), Shepard found herself supervising a Republic/Alliance/Hierarchy refit crew. They weren't miracle workers, but they came very close.

Inter-race relations began to warm significantly (even without supposed preconditions demanded by several species). Some called it a new "era of good feelings," as recriminations which would have caused diplomatic heartburn in the past got buried on page ten of situation reports. If the geth and quarians could put differences aside to produce kick-ass starships, why not everyone else? Competition rose again in a much healthier way—driven by citizens who refused to project the actions of states onto all citizens of the state, governments competed to see which among them could be the most open to working with others and trying to resolve grievances, rather than jealously guarding advantages.

Months passed as a joint force set a record for construction speed. It seemed the ghost of an ancient Earth industrialist named Henry Ford watched over the process—as every day brought new improvements making the assembly process better, faster, and stronger.

"And somehow me ranting into a video recorder had a hand in leading to this moment." Shepard spoke to herself, and no one heard (neither did anyone notice the single tear).

Sitting behind a lectern among rows of other dignitaries as politician after politician gave grandiose speeches, she stared out the massive panoramic windows into space. Before the view of all assembled lay the gleaming, newly-christened _Aspirations Toward Infinity._ Almost six kilometers from stem to stern, she was far bigger than any Citadel ship constructed to date—and also over twice the size of _Curator_-class Star Destroyers. Even the geth did not construct vessels of this magnitude.

After the official commissioning, a reception followed.

"I guess that ship's proof two plus two sometimes equals seven!" laughed Wrex.

"It looks nothing like any of the ships whose designs went into it" commented Tali.

"I hate to be the first person to be critical, but that thing is ugly! It looks like a box with…stuff on it." Garrus never minced words. "I thought my face looked bad after that rocket on Omega…"

"Hey!" Shepard cut in. "One, don't trash talk my new command or I'll throw you out the airlock. Two, it could be a flying brick for all I care as long as it works!" _That's all that matters—do what it takes to send these tentacled monsters back to whatever hole they crawled out of._

"The turian actually has a point" growled Wrex. "It _does_ look like a collection of flying bricks…"

Standing around a large holo-table which projected a detailed model of _Infinity_, Shepard and her crew still couldn't believe their new ride.

Due to limitations of available resources, _Infinity_ loomed larger than she would have if construction were to have taken place in a Fondor Drive Yards or Republic Core Systems facilities. Anti-proton annihilation fueled _Infinity_'s reactor instead of hypermatter, for instance. This demanded significant increases in the size of the reaction chamber and supporting structures in order to generate the required power level. With a reactor output only barely exceeding that of an original _Curator_, she nonetheless made _far_ better use of available energy than the smaller Star Destroyers. Quad-core Tantalus technology reduced the great bulk of the ship to practically nothing as far as engine output was concerned, while permitting the battleship to carry four times more armor than a _Curator_.

Speaking of armor, Legion piped up in defense of the new craft.

"We have observed that organics often place more emphasis on aesthetically pleasing shapes than functionality. This vessel takes the opposite approach—flat surfaces are easier to protect. Angling of the armor in several areas enables superior protection without requiring arced surfaces, which would have significantly weakened the ship's structure."

"Some ancient Earth politician said something about speaking softly, yet carrying a really big stick."

"History, Vega? Really?" came the commander's reply.

"Yeah. This looks like a hell of a stick!"

"Geth-enhanced triple main gun, each three kilometers in length using Thanix technology" marveled Garrus. "I could calibrate that all day."

Shepard swore Garrus's eyes misted over.

"It better not fall apart on us—or lose power as soon as a nearby enemy ship explodes."

"Miranda!" Shepard strode toward the Cerberus defector, who'd been eyeballing the projection. "Where in blazes have you been?"

_An Alliance uniform? Is down up now?_

"Helping the Alliance stick it to those bastards at Cerberus. We've caught them trying to break into Republic computers—nothing big since the servers they attacked only held communications protocols, IFF codes, translation matrices, that sort of thing. They may have gotten away with something insignificant, but we shut them down."

"That still doesn't explain how you went from the Illusive Man's right hand to…"

"Alliance Project Manager, Cerberus Technological Integration" finished the raven-haired woman. "Part of my first assignment was moving EDI from the _Normandy_ to this ship. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I guess I just ruined it…"

Shepard glare. Undermined by Shepard grin.

"I defected right after we got back, but was of course immediately under suspicion. I didn't want to pull you into it, so I never used your name. That dragged the process out for several months."

"You trust me to save your sister, but not with paperwork." Sam put on her best pout. "I'm hurt."

"Trust me, you wouldn't have enjoyed helping. You'd have been grounded, the _Normandy_ given to someone else, your crew investigated, probably disbanded too."

"Okay then, never mind! Hope you didn't get any papercuts!"

"Very funny, Shepard. I won't forget this. How did you get command of this thing, anyway?"

Sam had to suppress a laugh. "Popular pressure plus one hell of an embarrassed Council. After all the protests, rallies, and marches in my honor (she turned slightly red at this), they actually threatened to hold up the _Infinity _in drydock if the Republic objected to me being given the big chair!"

"From what I've heard, the Republic admiral likes you, so that wouldn't have ever happened." Miranda began manipulating the holo-table controls to reveal more information about the behemoth. Unlike the multipurpose HMMSE-type _Curators_ or the massively overwrought _Revenant_, this ship was designed for one purpose: killing Reapers.

Like a children's playset, many elements joined together in _Infinity_ and her future sister vessels under the aegis of United Defense Command. Republic power generation adapted to available materials. Turian-inspired engine design borrowed (and vastly scaled up) from frigates like _Normandy_ paired with a terrific hyperdrive motivator. Geth-enhanced, turian-designed primary weaponry with Republic turbolasers assembled with parts pulled from decommissioned Star Destroyers serving as a secondary armament. The ultimate culmination of collaboration, Trinity Armor, coated most of the hull in thicknesses up to ten meters. This revolutionary defense system reacted in several ways depending on incoming ordinance: increase hardness to resist kinetic impacters, increase thermal conductivity to resist energy weapons, or a combined mode with the characteristics of both (to repel Reaper fire). Its design limited deployment to dreadnaughts and larger, preventing _Normandy_ from seeing any benefit (as Shepard would have liked). Standard particle shields gave way to Cyclonic Barrier Technology while tiny mass effect field infused projectors evened out and strengthened energy shields. Four Tantalus Drive Cores nullified much of the ship's bulk—permitting the seemingly-undersized thrust section to be all the ship needed for maneuvering.

The galaxy rose magnificently to the challenge laid down of defending a neighbor. Sixteen _Infinity_-class vessels were planned and would be completed over the next year. Republic ships refitted with mass effect cores continued the unceasing vigilance against Reaper incursions.

Like last year's X3M suddenly facing the newest model, _Revenant_ became a bit of a white elephant. Powerful, but expensive, the vast flagship of the Republic fleet remained near the Citadel in a power-saving state. Unable to either find the room inside or sufficient quantities of eezo to retrofit her, _Revenant_ saw virtually no benefits from technological collaboration. Ironically, rather than creating vast new _Revenant-_scale vessels through assisting the Council as was originally planned, the Republic ended up downsizing to the compact-by-comparison _Aspirations Toward Infinity_ type. Smaller, lighter, faster became the buzzwords of modern ship design once again, reversing the previous several decades' trending toward the Leviathan-esque. More akin to battlecruisers or "dreadnaught killers," the _Infinities_ had no chance of surviving beatings _Revenant_-class ships would shrug off. However, it would be required to land the necessary hits in the first place, a difficult proposition against a six-kilometer flying gun with the agility of a ship less than a tenth its size.

Shepard shook Miranda's shoulder. "Hey! You gonna read specs all day, or do you want to see the real thing?"


	29. Hold On

The pace of _Infinity_ construction reached a fever pitch. Ahead of schedule, the Fleet of Ascendant Justice (damn the Republic and their flowery names) would have twenty four _Infinity -_class vessels by deployment time, half again more than the planned sixteen. How such vessels were assembled so quickly remained a closely-guarded secret. Not even Cerberus was able to penetrate this innermost sanctum of the United Defense Command, which had, for all intents and purposes, superseded the Citadel Council's official armed forces.

Cerberus, rolled into Sapiens Shield, a name not yet well-known in the galactic zeitgeist, had found several opportunities. First, _Revenant_ had become a paper tiger—her reactor at low power to prevent burning through precious fuel. Second, agents at T'Soni Base I ensured no breakthroughs occurred on the batarian weapon now held by Cerberus. Third, the Illusive Man was centimeters away from granting a bitter Henry Lawson his wish. Filled with righteous anger at what the terrorist "vault hunters" had done to Handsome Jack before murdering him in cold blood, the head of Cerberus vowed to reunite Lawson with his daughter Oriana, no matter what the cost. Finally, the locations of several _Infinity_ shipyards had been determined through careful snooping of poorly-secured Alliance networks.

Executing on these options required multi-stage planning.

Six _Infinities_ were in commission. Combined alongside existing forces, the United Defense Command possessed a formidable fleet which Sapiens Shield could not afford to take lightly. However, without its keystone, the whole fleet might well fall.

Unlike the easy declaration of alliance/mutual interest, heated debate over which operation to prioritize consumed valuable time. Some were all for attacking the Citadel itself now that the threat of _Revenant_ had diminished. Others countered this would be suicide—best to attack the thought-secret assembly locations of _Infinity_ warships. Operation Family Time could be carried out regardless of which major attack were to be launched, and Kai Leng volunteered for another assignment that would stick a knife into the galaxy's current hopey-changey attitude by bringing down one they venerated most.

Least defended, according to Sapiens intelligence, was the Io Facility in the Sol System. The Sapiens fleet would arrive at the Charon relay and FTL in from there. After many arguments, it was settled that a "testing the waters" strike would be committed to first, rather than going for the Citadel itself, while simultaneously accomplishing Family Time and a new tactical strike which Leng called Feet of Clay.

Supposedly, all "core" relays (those leading to a homeworld) were to be monitored by Republic superluminal sensors. However, in the excitement (and massive resource consumption) of building _Infinity_ warships, such upgrades fell to the wayside. Besides, the presence of _Infinity-_class UDCS _Mobius_ should have been enough to deter attacks. It did—of the "pirate raider" sort. It did not, however, give any pause to a force consisting of 32 carriers, 53 dreadnaughts, and assorted other support vessels bringing the fleet total near five hundred.

By the time defenders at the Io Facility realized what was happening, it was far too late. Dreadnaught fire tore into defense platforms around the shipyard. Two stations managed to get off a few rounds, crippling one Cerberus dreadnaught. The few defending fighters able to launch before their hangers were reduced to floating hulks got swatted down by GARDIAN systems on screening frigates. Without anything significant to draw attention away, the kinetic/energy hybrid barriers of the facility itself came under fire—collapsing after only a few minutes. Whole sections of the rectangular structure were either torn away or had large holes drilled by kinetic rounds. No last-minute-powerup would save UDCS _Ceaseless Pursuit of Harmonious Union_ (pundits later joked the ship's destruction saved many tongues from twisting), as she had only reached 35% completion. Any survivors would have to hold on until reinforcements arrived.

* * *

Oriana Lawson remained under observation by elite physicians at T'Soni Base I. Mostly healed, she still required physical therapy to recover fully from her injuries at the hands of Eclipse mercenaries. A burst from an M-29 Incisor nearly tore off her arm at the shoulder—so reconstruction had been time-consuming, the recovery difficult. To boost her morale, Oriana stayed at T'Soni Base I where Miranda could easily visit during the course of her duties.

Kai Leng arrived disguised as a medical student working on his residency. Due to his exemplary (forged) credentials, he was assigned to shadow in the Critical Care Ward. Not even waiting for the customary "stay long enough to throw off suspicion" time to elapse, Leng made his two moves within hours. He didn't even bother to disguise Liara's death—purple blood sprayed all over the private room from multiple wounds to the head, neck, and torso. This was about sending a message, and an "accidental" death would not convey it.

Changing out of his blood-splattered clothing, Leng moved into the Rehabilitation Wing. Claiming he had some paperwork for Oriana to fill out since she'd made "excellent progress" and was thus timed for an early release, he convinced the young woman to accompany him to his "office." A quick dose of sedative, and she was loaded onto a shuttle. She would wake up home, where she belonged.

* * *

UDCS _Mobius_ was 100% complete and had just completed a shakedown cruise. Responding to the assault on Io, she hyper-zeroed to a vantage point which would permit her main gun to unleash a torrent of molten metal capable of melting fleets. The Sapiens Shield assault force didn't realize what was happening at first—two dreadnaughts, four carriers, and one cruiser vanished before anyone noticed dwindling numbers. The fire rate of _Infinity_-class primary weapons matched that of conventional Citadel-type dreadnaughts at one shot per two seconds, except each _Infinity_ mounted three main guns. This permitted a punishing barrage at more than one shot per second from the principal armament—hardly a trivial amount of firepower. With an engagement range of 12,500km, it took some time for Sapiens forces to close the gap enough to cause _Mobius_ to back off. In that time, six further dreadnaughts and the pride of Hyperion's fleet ("Jack's Revenge") were dismissed from the battlefield. _Mobius_ retreated all the way to Earth, leaving Sapiens attackers in a bit of a bind. Risk hitting Earth (which they'd sworn to protect as the apparent birthplace of humanity) or allow their opponent to pick them off? Sapiens forces beat a hasty retreat after losing another dreadnaught.

"Whoever got that intelligence is going to die" swore the Sapiens admiral in charge of the overall Io operation. "Rotating barrel use my ass!" It had been theorized the triple-barrel design was intended to reduce wear and thus would offer no fire-rate advantage. Further, the incorporation of both geth _and_ turian technology had not been anticipated (a coup for United Defense Command counter-intelligence)—leaving Sapiens forces at the mercy of one ship which single-handedly notched a dozen capital kills in _one_ battle without a scratch on itself.

The overall goal had still been accomplished, and in any case it was likely more of the damnable _Infinities_ would show up shortly, so the still-sizable remaining Sapiens fleet took off through the Charon relay. Using a sensor-scattering device combined with dozens of drone-ships, the human-supremacist force appeared to be splitting into several task groups.

"Confirmed the terrorists have both fled and separated" intoned a sensor officer aboard UDCS _Mobius_. "Also confirmed nothing is left of the Io Facility."

The captain's response followed procedure. "Send notice to the other _Infinity_-class warships: pursue the elements of this supremacist fleet wherever they go. Those who harbor sympathy for these extremists must know that they are not safe anywhere."

More drones streaked away from fleeing Sapiens ships. Those detected on sensors by UDC forces showed up as ships which "would be destroyed later" so firing now was a "waste of munitions."

* * *

"Waste not, want not" posters were plastered all over parts of _Revenant_ that were still inhabited. To save power, many gun turrets had been switched to fully-automated control to permit life support in the turrets to be disabled, and batteries slaved together. Unlike star dreadnaughts of yore, _Revenant_ ships operated under the assumption of resupply every five years or so. Fewer supplies, more room for offensive systems. What was supposed to have been a three-month investigation had turned into over a year of remote deployment—a poor circumstance for a vessel whose replenishment schedule assumed hypermatter tankers were on order in the near future.

Grayson remained aboard his command, but had taken up residence among the officers both to show camaraderie and allow cutting juice from the expansive Admiral's Deck in the bridge tower. The Reaper fight hardly taxed _Revenant_'s ability to project firepower as many batteries fired not a shot during the one-sided slaughter, but the event had used significant amounts of hypermatter reserves.

The Admiral's schedule included a breakfast with Captain Shepard of UDCS _Aspirations Toward Infinity_, so he donned a dress uniform and prepared to meet Samantha. The woman had done more for this galaxy than any other single individual—yet retained the rank of Commander for quite some time. Now, she'd finally received a well-deserved promotion. Predictably, half the galaxy's military tried to request transfers to her command—there were only so many slots in a roughly 7,500 person crew. Amazing what heavy automation (quarian/geth) and reduction in design elements to the bare minimum (turian) could do for headcounts! Much of the crew aboard Republic starships were support staff—gunners, pilots, mechanics, various specialists. Without hordes of fighters, a surface covered in turbolasers, or most of the civilian appointments larger Republic ships tended to carry, manpower requirements dropped quickly.

A status display indicated _Infinity_ arrived within the vicinity of the Citadel/_Revenant_. Shepard would be arriving aboard the Republic's largest battleship via shuttle, and then her ship would be returning to an undisclosed secret location for some classified, unspecified upgrades. Rumors abounded: a full-spectrum cloaking device, energy-absorbing ("vampire") shields, molecularly-bonded armor… The longer the rumor list became, the more implausible its contents got.

Grayson waited in the command hanger. Shepard was never late, so her shuttle should be arriving any moment now.

* * *

Half a cluster away, Pandora's surface resembled nothing as much as a horrific biological experiment run amok. What wildlife remained made Hyperion's experiments look positively tame—building-size skags, skyscraper-size threshers, and rakk bigger than strategic bombers. The Harvesters played with genetics as easily as children did with blocks—assembling and disassembling strands at will to produce even more monstrous creations than last week. In typical fashion, once the planet became a "total loss," its corporate residents created a stampede to leave. As the contagion spread, what few forces could be mustered against the new threat massed near wealthy systems controlled by the large corporations of the galaxy.

Hyperion's fleet being the largest (having annexed Atlas's sizable force), its star systems were generally secure for the moment as Harvesters sought easier targets. The JVLN alliance that existed a whole galaxy away suddenly collapsed as the home front crumbled. It was a mad rush of every corporation for itself. Well, most.

Torgue and Maliwan, having somewhat peacefully co-existed in neighboring systems, pooled their fleets to create a defense nearly as solid as Hyperion's. While Harvesters tore apart weaker targets, the new MALITOR ALLIANCE (Torgue Flexington insisted on it being ALL CAPS) reached out to any willing to contribute something toward common protection.

Deep in the Fridge, the last known (to them) outpost of unharvested life on Pandora stubbornly refused to die. Though they had no delusions of "repopulating" their dying homeworld, none among them was going to give up until the last breath left their bodies. The Fridge became their refuge—taking in any stragglers who happened to learn of a safe haven. Of course, such a haven could not be advertised openly lest the Harvesters find out… (In reality, the Harvesters simply did not care as these pitiful few humans were hardly disruptive of their plans.)

"Iced coffee again?" complained one of the former Sanctuary residents.

"Oh, I'm sorry, let me get my top-shelf bourbon that I've been holding out on" snapped Moxxi. The overly-cheery, happy-go-lucky woman everyone knew disappeared shortly after the deaths of Scooter and Tina. The presumption that Ellie, another of her children, was also dead did not help her state of mind.

"How long you reckon we can hold on?" asked Zed. "I camped in Fyrestone for a while after New Haven, but that was a bit different. First off, it was warmer. Second, Hyperion Loaders have nothing on these tentacle-things!"

"We've lasted over half a year eating spiderants, rakk, chrystalisk and bladeflowers" replied Michael Mamaril. "None of us have died yet. I would imagine we could keep going indefinitely, subject only to the wearing out of equipment."

Marcus sat rocking in the corner, sobbing. "I haven't denied a refund in months…"

"Sorry to ruin your FUN, but without customers, that tends to happen!" Claptrap, always happy-sounding, and always butting in with an inappropriate/ill-timed comment.

"I wonder if our message got through to anybody?" asked the other citizen. Somehow, nobody had ever learned either of their names—preferring to call them "You there" or "Hey!"

Tannis had not lost her air of utter intellectual superiority despite the circumstances. "The odds of successfully transmitting a message over 250,000 light years are infinitesimally small."

"Thanks for the encouragement. You're always a barrel of fun" snorted Moxxi. "Oh, yes, we're totally screwed, but today, I hugged a chair!"

"If we're still alive, there's hope" added Mamaril, in a tone suggesting he wanted to talk about something else.

The two women refused to look at each other. Undoubtedly, were Brick present he'd suggest the two of them work out their, _tension_, in private. Or in front of him. Either way.

* * *

"Put your shoulder into it, Rodriguez!" bellowed Brick. "And no biotic cheating!"

Between Jack and Brick, the students in KOMBT (Kinetic-Oriented Multiple Belligerent Training) were picking up on both biotic and physical fighting skills very quickly. The unofficial motto, "Force, multiplied" made most bullies think twice. A story circulated about a bully who'd been found stuffed into a crate of illegal drugs destined for Omega…with both his legs broken and his varren-claw earrings stabbed into a rather painful place.

Fending off Reapers required entirely different tactics than liberating a galaxy from their influence. Thus, focus shifted from pure ship-to-ship power in favor of a balanced approach offering strength on the ground as well. Recognizing the difficulty of the fight ahead, biotics were recruited left and right with little regard for past transgressions. Unlike Jack, though, these unstable specimens were not allowed to roam free subject to supervision by Shepard. Cryogenically frozen, loaded into large containers holding 208 tubes, and magnetically "slung" onto the bottom hulls of _Infinity_ dreadnaughts, they would be turned loose to clear landing zones. Each dreadnaught could carry up to five of these "death row platforms" as they were colloquially known.

Fully aware that doing so violated about two dozen Council rules in addition to several treaties, the official justification occurred through a wrinkle in the very code meant to prevent such use of prisoners. Prisoners who volunteered, would become eligible for parole review based on "acts of extraordinarily selfless service" from participation, and were not "placed in positions in which death is an absolute certainty" could technically be qualified as temporary soldiers. Through a tortured reading of the General Order of Military Operations, such "impressed infantry" could be deployed under the express orders of a ranking officer.

Unaware of the actual contents of the "mag-sleds" attached to the bottom of her ship, now-Captain (so weird to think that!) Shepard waved it on without a second thought. _Infinity _was about to hyper-zero to the Citadel relay, after which she would disembark, and her vessel would be spirited away to undergo "upgrades."

Boarding the shuttle which would take her to _Revenant_, she gave one last instruction to her helmsman. "Joker, just make sure my crew is here when I get back…"

"Very funny, Comm—I mean Captain. Sorry, Captain!"

"It's okay Joker. This time."

Smirking at the look of abject terror on his face, she hopped aboard.

Looking back at her ship as it disappeared, she couldn't help but admire the fusion of Republic and Citadel technology. With greatly reduced effective mass thanks to eezo, the vessel in actuality out-massed eight _Curators_, yet possessed the nimbleness of a particularly adept medium-size cruiser.

A most un-medium warship loomed large ahead. Recalling the first time she'd laid eyes on the Republic's monstrosity, she couldn't believe how strange it looked now. Many of the seemingly endless numbers of lights had gone dark—even those which would ordinarily illuminate the ship's scores of hangers. As the shuttle moved closer, Sam noticed many of the ship's gun barrels drooped liked wilted flowers and no longer moved in a state of constant tracking.

"Wow, anything to save a few megajoules, huh?"

No one answered, as EDI was millions of kilometers away by now, and the shuttle flew under the control of an automatic pilot.

Once docked, Sam met the admiral at the turbolift leading to a tram station. Which would take them a short distance to _another_ lift, finally culminating in a stop high in the bridge tower.

Walking through dimmed hallways, she could almost see a sadness in the formerly jovial Admiral.

Before a word could leave Shepard's mouth, he spoke. "I don't know if I've told you—but when we depart, we're most likely going to leave _Revenant_ behind." Though he described an assemblage of steel, bulkheads, and forcefields, he sounded as though he were referring to putting down a beloved pet.

"I thought the reason she was in power-save mode was specifically so she'd have enough range to reach the galaxy we're supposed to save" Sam countered.

"That's what we kept telling ourselves—no one wanted to admit it. For all our preparations, we left with the metaphorical needle close to empty, and then took her out to the track."

"She's a wonderful ship—I don't care what people say about dreadnaughts being excessive. Sometimes, nothing else can get the job done." She resisted the urge to high-five out of some sense of weird dreadnaught commander camaraderie.

For the first time, Grayson smiled. "I guess you don't understand until you captain one. Congratulations on being promoted, by the way."

Arriving at one of many rooms offering a stunning view of the ship's bow, both exited the turbolift and headed for a nearby table. Unlike her last visit, the café area was empty aside from the pair.

Seeing her expression, Grayson explained "The crew's been dispersed for the most part. Some assigned to _Infinities_, others to the other ships we're cranking out seemingly every day. Thanks to unification of our technology with yours, the crew-to-size ratio seen with Republic vessels is a thing of the past, so there are a _lot_ of people on 'extended leave' now."

Breakfast had, timing-wise, become more of a "brunch." The two captains talked about strategy, their command experiences, their lives beyond service. Shepard finally learned Grayson's first name—Adam.

"Seriously? How did I go this long without asking about your name?"

"Says the woman who responds faster to 'Shepard' than 'Sam.'"

Neither could read the other's mind, but both had similar fleeting thoughts: what if this war was over and we just had time for…us? Immediately followed by "Ew" (her) and "Inappropriate!" (him)—31 and 59? Not happening. _He's old enough to be my father_, she chastised herself. _You seriously need to get laid, Sam!_

Interrupting these thoughts came the blare of an alarm. Followed by a frantic call over the ship's comm. "We count thirty carriers, Admiral! Their sensor signatures are so small they fooled our proximity alarms!"

"Let's see if she has one last race in her." Grayson's expression hardened as his battle-face snapped into place. Both took off for the command bridge.

"Carriers?" wondered Shepard. "Why would anyone rush in here with mass carriers? And who?"

"Do you remember the attack on Earth?"

"Of course I do. _Infinity_ had to pick up some mag-sleds, so we weren't able to respond, but I recall hearing something about a new human-centric group being behind it, yeah."

"These wackos call themselves 'Sapiens Shield.' Shield against what? Imaginary threats that only exist in their heads and the echo-chambers their basement-dwelling supporters create on the extranet?" Grayson's face showed pure hatred, something Sam wasn't used to seeing. "They formed from those outsiders who invaded Khar'shan and those guys with the bumblebee colored uniforms—Cerberus! That's it!"

"One of your ships ran into them, but they kept to themselves after that, right? And I'll be completely honest—no one was sorry to see the end of the batarian Hegemony's bloviating propaganda."

"They stopped keeping to themselves when they hooked up with Cerberus. Think they used to be called 'javelin' or something." Grayson authorized an emergency power-up, one that would put severe stress on _Revenant_'s battle-weary systems. Before either of them could so much as pull up a targeting interface, the ship shuddered.

"Mass accelerator fire! We're getting hit from…I don't know where!" shrieked an ensign. _I guess being on a ship that's close to invincible means that as soon as someone does more than scratch the paint, it's panic time_ she thought. _If my life weren't in danger, it would be hella funny_.

"Do we have a visual on those carriers?" demanded Grayson. "All weapons free! Where are my shields?"

"Sir" replied a frantic operations officer, "the generators are being cold-started, they'll take at least five minutes to come online! We…"

"…thought this might happen and intended to rely on armor if the situation arose." He finished the sentence for the hyperventilating young man. "This ship's got a pretty tough hide" remarked the admiral, turning to Shepard. "It'll take a lot to punch through to vital systems."

"You had to say it" sighed Sam, as a flashing panel indicated precisely that: direct hit to vital system.

"Power distribution node hit! Aft section 314, subsection 59 won't be able to fire!"

Shepard stifled a small smile. At least the displays and input panels didn't explode from hits to, well, anything—like they tended to in "Persephone's Predators" or other sci-fi vids.

"Fuck!"

Shepard grabbed Grayson's arm. Tapping a panel, she pulled up a schematic of the destroyed _Curator_, RNS _Starlight Wanderer_. A few more keystrokes brought up orange highlighting on key support systems—power distribution, cooling, internal network. Bringing up _Revenant_, she overlayed them and scaled to similar size.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Many important subsystems lined up enough (or could be extrapolated) that someone with even incomplete knowledge of _Curator_s could have a decent shot at doing severe damage to a dreadnaught several times larger.

"Cerberus intercepted incomplete schematics for your heavy cruisers" she panted, as she issued more commands. "They're using them as a blueprint to rip this ship to pieces!"

"By golly let's give them what for!" bellowed the tactical officer nearest Shepard. "Die, dickheads!"

"Unable to comply. Firing on friendly IFFs not permitted" responded the computer.

This time, both admiral and captain let loose streams of expletives setting a new bar for "curse like a sailor."

"We…just…have…to…hold…on" spluttered Sam as she pounded the console in frustration.

* * *

Maya awoke to a thump and throbbing headache. She'd fallen out of her bunk. Thankfully, she racked on the bottom, so there wasn't too far to drop. She landed with her back to the side of her bed.

A sleepy Lilith poked her head out of the top bunk.

"Wha-huh?"

"I had a bad…"

Jolted awake as if she'd touched active eezo, Maya jumped to her feet, narrowly missing the top bunk as she did so.

SMACK! The flat of her palm connected with the side of Lilith's face.

"You have to help me! WAKE UP!"

"Where's the bridge?" she demanded of the half-awake redhead, currently stumbling from dropping down to the floor.

"How the hell should I know? Why are we awake?"

"Stand still."

VOOOOOOM!

"What the…put me do-"

Whatever Lilith intended to say stopped as she fell unconscious in the grasp of a phaselock. Though Maya later informed her she'd only been out for twenty seconds, it felt as long as a life age of the universe.

_Pain. No words could describe the pain. Somehow, Lilith was both watching and inside the body of the dying Siren at the same time._

"_Thank you…friend. I have something to tell you Dad: you're an asshole!"_

_Lilith's vision whited out, and she saw nothing. But she did hear a voice._

"_You're probably thinking you've gone insane. This would be the third time someone's said 'Just trust me and go do something crazy.' The first time, your friend Lilith opened a Vault full of tentacled monster after being promised epic loot. The second time, you nearly got squished by an Eridian Warrior fighting a sociopath determined to control the galaxy._

_And now, this third time." _

_Lilith could almost see the smiling face that went along with the voice she remembered so well._

"_I can't explain it all now—but know this. Your friend is in danger. If you do not help her, the forces you know as Reapers will complete the cycle, and all will be lost._

_Go Maya! Go now!"_

Snapping out of the phaselock-induced trance as she dropped to the floor, Lilith looked at herself.

Spitting to clear her mouth, she snorted "I think you missed a spot!"

She was entirely covered in slag, half on-fire, electricity arced all around her (giving her hair a decidedly un-sexy look), and some of her hair that wasn't flying everywhere had dissolved. A single drop of acid landed on the deck, discoloring it.

"Uhh, sorry" replied Maya sheepishly.

"C'mon kiddo, we have a badass in distress!"

Grabbing Maya around the waist (coating one side of her with nasties), Lilith surged forward. Neither of them knew how many times the process repeated (or how many destroyed doors were left in their wake), but in the end, the two found themselves staring out the bridge windows of _Aspirations Toward Infinity_. And surrounded by angry marines.

"This is a restricted area!"

"Show me some ID!"

VOOOM!

"Raaaaaaargh!"

Explosions everywhere! Mayhem rained as the two Sirens combo-attacked everything in sight. Phaselock! Phasewalk! Phaselock!

Surveying the gory mess, Maya put her fist up. Lilith reciprocated. As if for dramatic effect, one last phase-singularity exploded as their knuckles touched, wiping most of the blood and guts from the bridge.

"I wonder where it all goes?" mused Maya.

"Let's _not_ find out, okay, Miss Encyclopedia?"

Gritting her teeth, Maya sat down in the pilot station. Normally, the partially-crippled Joker would fly the ship, but during the upgrade (whatever it was), no regular crew had been allowed near command areas.

"Cool! Leather!"

In order to remind the other Siren of priorities, Lilith smacked Maya upside the head.

"Payback!"

"Hang on Shepard, we're coming!" vowed the two Sirens in unison.


	30. Maximum Siren

Shepard felt like sticking her fingers in her ears. Yet another klaxon blared, indicating what seemed to be the nine-thousandth system failure. With all the sirens going off, it became impossible to tell which one was which. Or think about what they were for.

Shouting to be heard above the din, she turned toward Grayson. "It's almost like the designers never anticipated this many things going wrong at once!"

"They didn't!" responded one of the bridge crew. "This ship is supposed to be invincible! Nothing we could conceive of is capable of harming it!"

"Yeah, with its shields up" muttered Sam. "Seems like it's made of tissue paper now."

Standing on the very-much-intact bridge, Shepard marveled at the fact that many parts of the ship were essentially falling apart—yet the command deck remained in one piece with nary a spark in sight. _Reality sure is unrealistic_.

Grayson turned to his operations officer. "Have you completed the IFF rotation?"

"Yes, but there's some kind of virus in the system—keeps blocking my attempt to send the new IFF rules to the battery controllers!"

He was about to turn back to his work when he realized something else of importance. "Sir! The Sapiens weapons are attacking the hull at the atomic level—the only armor capable of resisting attacks like this is molecularly bonded."

Another alarm.

"Alert: sewage tank 12345 venting into space."

"Clearly a priority! Can someone turn these damn sirens off?" Shepard had been in planetside battles quieter than this bridge.

_Someone better change the combination on my Admiralty toilet paper…_

Sapiens vessels continued firing into the stricken _Revenant_. With many of her weak spots revealed through analysis (or blind guesswork) using the 30-something percent complete schematics Cerberus had pilfered covering _Curator_s, the battle had become utterly one-sided. The great battleship remained unable to fire—some turret controllers had no power (ironically protecting them from the MNKY-1 virus) while others could shoot (but refused to). Souped up weapons liberated from batarian control softened the massive armor plates keeping kinetic accelerator fire out of the ship's core. Repeated strikes in the same area from the yellow-hued weapons created mini-cascades in which the molecular disruption effect continued for a short while, creating bigger holes than would have otherwise occurred.

Grayson managed to override most of the alarms causing everyone's head to ring. A sense of quiet hopelessness settled over the ship. Unable to move, fire, shield herself, or launch fighters, _Revenant_ was basically a big metal box in space. Add some flair and square the corners; you'd have a coffin.

No triumphant, gloating hails. No "Join us and we can rule this galaxy." No last words.

The same ensign who'd experienced frustration at the hands of _Revenant_'s computer pushed a data disk into Shepard's hands.

"If you take that and plug it directly into a turret controller, it'll update the system configuration, letting the guns attached to that controller fire on the false friendlies."

"My old XO said she didn't want to imagine what it would be like to run around this ship" started Shepard. "Now I'm imagining it!"

"Does anyone know how the hell we got caught camping the crapper?" demanded an angry Grayson.

"Ensign Forick, sir. Engineering specialist" (he'd been the source of many solutions in the past few minutes).

"Go on, ensign—you figured out the lightning gun and the turret problem" prodded Grayson.

"Those were sensor hallucinations. They're drones! We were meant to think they were carriers—they weren't! They blinded our sensors—which is something we'd expect from an inbound force—then the actual attack happened. From behind."

Shepard fumed. "So, if someone looked out the freakin' window, the ruse would've failed."

Forick didn't say anything, but his expression betrayed the answer.

_Windows are structural weaknesses. Get do not use them. HAH! Got ya, Legion!_

Neither commander could formulate words to adequately describe their collective feeling of idiocy.

Slain by the most brutal warning yet, silence left the bridge as if it had never been there. "Warning: Reactor containment failure is now possible. Initiating countermeasures."

_Hey, at least we didn't get a two minute warning then "BTW you're gonna die now_."

"What do you do about that? Forick? Grayson? We don't have these problems…"

"If the countermeasures fail, the reactor will either breach or leak. Leaks are better, but that's saying being stepped on by a krayt dragon is preferable to digestion by a sarlacc."

"Forick means one almost always kills you, the other definitely does" clarified Grayson.

"Oh, that's very reassuring." The two Republic navy men could almost see the acid sarcasm dripping from Sam's face as she drew out the last two words in an oddly-calm but clearly faked voice.

"Last one to turret control is a squashed pyjack!" Shepard took off running.

"Oh, this is not fair" groaned the Admiral. _What the hell is a pyjack?_

* * *

Maya's hands hesitated, not sure what to make of the glowing control panels. They were, as much of the ship was, a jumble of three different types of technology with just enough of each to grant familiarity, combined with the distinct sense of having no idea what one was supposed to do.

On a whim, she plunged her hand into what looked like a haptic grab-handle. "You'd better sit down." Lilith knew better than to be standing during sudden acceleration—despite the best efforts of starship engineers, people often flew across open spaces for no discernible reason. Both strapped themselves in.

_Here goes nothing._

She heard her lips make the sound, but didn't remember anything after that.

"_Executing phase shift_."

When Maya's senses returned, the first thing she saw was a gaping Lilith. Looking out the front viewport, a disaster. To her left, an almost uncomfortably bright glow coming from…her tattoos. She poked one. It glowed slightly brighter under her touch, then faded back to its abnormally luminescent self. _How the hell am I supposed to sleep when my whole arm is a night light?_

"Right. Disaster…"

Turning to Lilith as if asking for the time, Maya innocently inquired as to how the ship's guns worked.

"How the hell should I know? Maybe we should have left someone alive to tell us."

A new voice made itself heard. "That will not be necessary. I am fully capable of operating this ship, its weapons, and my cyberwarfare suites simultaneously. Even with no support crew."

A life-size, entirely naked human woman, tinted a vague shade of purple-blue, appeared next to the pilot's seat. Bearing a vague resemblance to Maya, but also Shepard as if the two had been run in a blender (preserving only the _best_ features of both), the hologram introduced itself.

"I am EDI. You may remember me as Enhanced Defense Intelligence, the A.I. aboard the _Normandy_. I now reside in this vessel."

"Where've you been this whole time?" demanded Lilith.

"The purported upgrade to this dreadnaught was my removal, coupled with the embarking of questionable cargo. Your actions reactivated a complete backup copy of my program made shortly before attempts were made to delete me."

"Hold on, that makes no sense. What do Siren powers have to do with electronics?" Maya was flabbergasted.

"Hey killer, you did say 'Executing phaseshift' before you hurled this battleship halfway across the galaxy" replied Lilith.

"The Republic command ship is sustaining severe damage. It is likely the vessel will be destroyed without our intervention. Would you like my assistance?"

"No, I'd rather sit here and watch everyone die" snapped Lilith.

"I can do that" replied the blue woman.

Cue blank Siren stares.

"That was a joke. Securing airlocks, cargo bay doors, and safety harnesses." ("Urgh!" said one of the Sirens.) "Applying charge to main mass accelerator cannons."

Rapid pulses of blue ordinance streaked toward targets too distant to make out without assistance from sensors. The ship's position adjusted ever so slightly between shots, allowing a rain of fire to hit multiple targets rather than over-killing a single enemy.

"As of now, Cerberus no longer possesses any dreadnaught-class warships." EDI's avatar took on a self-satisfied look. "I have been observing organic behavior since my activation. Is this preference for the destruction of my enemies an appropriate response to the situation?"

"Yes EDI, celebrating the death of your enemies is very appropriate" smirked Lilith. "We organics do it all the time. In fact, I'm going to do a little happy dance!"

After watching Lilith for a short while, EDI concluded "Your ability to 'get down' is far superior to Shepard's, if the exaggerated stories told by Jack are any indication."

Lilith stopped dancing and turned to Maya, whispering "Did EDI just use slang?"

In the meantime, _Infinity_'s guns continued eliminating Sapiens' fleet, notching a spectacular triple-kill of a supercarrier, plus her dreadnaught escorts. Though EDI had a far higher hit rate vs. shots fired than most organic gunners, many shells still raced off into empty space due to last-minute maneuvers by various targets. At maximum range, lag became a slight issue. Keeping a close watch on "Lightning" cruisers, EDI immediately retreated upon noticing a pack of them charging.

"We are unable to effectively combat these smaller vessels" she remarked at Lilith's incredulous look. "Despite our maneuverability, it is unlikely that this vessel's main guns would be able to effectively target ships of that size."

"What about our secondary guns? Can't we use those?"

"I'm sorry, I can't do that, Lilith. It would place the ship in too much danger. This vessel is intended to remain at the rear of a fleet formation, utilizing its range to maximum advantage."

"What's that red flashing?" demanded Maya.

"We have an incoming transmission from _Revenant_" replied EDI. "I will patch it through."

"Who the hell are you?" An irate Sam Shepard verged on sounding unhappy with her as-yet unknown rescuers. "My ship was in for upgrades!"

"If by upgrades, you mean total deletion of its A.I., then yes, it was in for that" came Lilith's cutting reply.

That stopped Shepard's tirade in its tracks. "Wait, what? Who would want to delete EDI?"

"Do I look like I was there?" snapped Lilith.

"I don't mean to sound bitchy, but is there a reason you're not fighting back?" Maya was the first to retaliate when provoked, so she was a little confused as to why _Revenant_, with Shepard onboard, hung in space without any inkling of resistance.

Shepard cut right to the chase. "Even if we can get juice flowing through the weapon, Sapiens ships are using a Republic IFF. We rotated the IFF codes, but a virus inside the system is preventing us from deploying the new codes without manually loading them into every battery computer all over the ship."

"So change the codes manually" said Lilith with an air of smugness, as if this solution hadn't occurred to anyone yet.

Since the discussion started, EDI had managed to send four more Sapiens-flagged dreadnaughts to the drydock in the great beyond.

"I'm sorry—did someone suggest running all over the ship plugging a data module into server banks that are at best kilometers apart? Because that's what I thought I heard." Shepard had never really liked Lilith's attitude; apparently she'd been a borderline god(des) on her homeworld.

"That is indeed what I suggested" responded the Siren, without a hint of mocking or self-assuredness. The tone of supremacy crept back into her voice. "I never said _you _be the one to do it."

"So how close do you need to be to do your pink teleport flash thing?" Sam could see where this was going now.

"I can get a group of people into orbit, or myself farther than that. But not twenty thousand kilometers." A weary sigh escaped Lilith, resigned to not being able to do absolutely everything without help. She'd stopped thinking of others as lesser, but still liked to imagine herself as greater. Until reality got in the way, that is, in which case she would gladly acquire assistance.

Grayson appeared on the video feed. "You can't just launch a shuttle—you'd get spotted by all the fighters stinging my ship. We could send a Punisher—it has the ability to hide itself from both sensors and visual scanning."

"And how long would that take?"

"Too long!" yelled Shepard. "Lilith, we need you over here _now_."

Sealed tightly in jury-rigged crash webbing, collision foam, and an EVA suit, Lilith realized exactly how stupid of an idea this was. A misfire would leave her racing through space. Or splattered all over the front of the wrong ship. Instead of ammo, her bandoliers were full of calorie-dense battle supplements usually fed to biotics. Attached to her back: a massive receiver/transmitter/engine that would permit Lilith to maneuver and EDI to interface with _Revenant_ from afar. Several electrical leads were attached to key points on her slender body.

The top of her improvised ride closed with a whoosh. Smooth mechanical whirring indicated she had been pulled into launch position. With a clank, the barrel closed as it prepared to fire.

"Stand by on Accelerator #3; minimum power!" barked Maya. "Reroute excess energy to Trinity Armor on fire!"

"NOW!"

HMMMMMVVV—FWOOOOSH!

Lights dimmed for a few seconds, and several status displays lit up red around Maya, as some external plating had cracked and/or snap-frozen.

"My brains…are going into my feet!" Lilith yelled, though no one heard her. Darkness closed in as G-forces built, and took her from consciousness.

…but she was jolted awake seconds later. Communications restored, Maya's voice filled her ears.

"No time to be sleeping on the job! Stand by to go EVA! Five seconds!"

The accelerator-round-turned-canister popped apart, spilling Siren into space. Holding her legs straight behind and arms at her sides, Lilith hurtled toward _Revenant_ and the general melee surrounding the ship. Conservation of momentum would keep her going—unless she hit something. Activating the hand controls for her backpack, she swerved to dodge a piece of wreckage. Thankfully, the bright purple lighting of the nebula made mostly-gray metal debris easier to see, otherwise she might've overlooked several obstacles.

"Whoa!" Avoiding what looked like a power coupling, she shot straight through a massive piece of hull plating which had been holed by energy weapon fire.

"Ready on the tractor beam!" Shepard turned the Punisher toward open space, its only powered systems anti-gravity, life support, and its beam weapon. The Punisher, an extremely expensive, temperamental, and hard-to-fly fighter was nevertheless worth it for those who could make use of it. Equipped with more firepower than some patrol vessels several times its size, it sported eight heavy laser cannons, quad ion blasters, quad warhead launchers, a total-spectrum cloak, and a tractor beam.

"Bay doors open, deactivating containment field." The hanger crew watched with bated breath. This was the sort of stuff you saw in the vids, not real life. It was exactly the type of cool thing the recruiters told you did _not_ happen in the real military.

The invisible beam reached out deep into space, some twenty-five kilometers (far longer than most fighter-beams). Lilith's heads-up display showed a green glowing box where the beam was supposed to be. It would have been nice to highlight debris, but without a high-speed sensor or previous mapping such luxuries were not possible.

Like some kind of dancer, Lilith weaved in and out of rubble. It was a dance to the death—one mistake at these speeds would be instantly fatal. The padding in her helmet was a nice touch, but it wouldn't stop anything.

"Lilith, you're off target!" cried a frantic Maya. "Adjust heading by…ten degrees port!"

Careful not to overcompensate, Lilith made the required correction.

After dodging what seemed like the three hundredth piece of debris, Lilith could see her destination.

"Almost in range" murmured Sam. "…and, GOTCHA!"

The beam at that exact moment was still pulling Lilith forward (that is, doing nothing to slow her incredible speed). Lightning-fast hands manipulated the anti-grav controls, swinging the ship around 180 degrees while dialing up the beam's power. Lilith came to a not-so-gentle stop hovering five hundred meters from the Punisher.

Two medics scrambled to catch her as she fell.

"You have five minutes to get her back on her feet" barked Shepard. "All that matters is she can see well enough to connect this" (she held up a data disk) "to computer ports."

In the short time it took Lilith to ride a mass accelerator round almost twenty thousand kilometers, even more damage had been done to the Republic's once-proud flagship. Star Dreadnaught type vessels often carried upwards of twenty meters of armor over vital areas. However, when said armor dissolved by virtue of molecular disruption rather than diffusing an energy weapon or blocking kinetic impacts, it wasn't worth much.

Ironically, the behemoth battleship would have suffered more damage had she been operating at full power while sustaining such damage, as many ruptured power transfer systems were instead empty—thus preventing any kind of explosive overload.

Back on her feet, Lilith chomped down three energy bars.

"Now you be sure to check in with a doctor right after this mission is over!" scolded one of the two medics.

"Right, whatever." _I don't need doctors. I'm the Firehawk, bitches!_ Distracted, Lilith prepared herself. She'd never Phasewalked this much before. Her objective was simple: update the IFF on as many turret controllers as possible on her way to the main computer core, where she'd use the tap-device Shepard had paid a fortune for on the black market.

Yelling in some kind of incoherent, angry rage, she began the first leg of her journey.

* * *

A most uncivil debate had broken out on the bridge of PSS _Proletarian Power_. The attack had slackened after a half-hour of pounding. No doubt the captains of various _Infinity_-class vessels were having problems with suddenly-awoken biotics punching their way through the bottom of their ships, preventing them from responding to the Citadel's distress call. This was why removal of the ex-Cerberus A.I. from _Aspirations Toward Infinity_ had been attempted in the first place—she would notice (and suppress) the cryogenic thaw sequence. She might also throw the stowed enhanced Atlas walkers out the airlock. However, despite repeated attempts to transmit the command codes, no response was forthcoming either from the Atlas or biotic units. All the while, _Infinity_ picked off more Sapiens ships.

Since the battle joined, _Infinity_ destroyed a total of twelve ships, including eight capital-class vessels. Four kills were cruisers hit by an experimental high-explosive warhead rather than the standard liquid metal sheathed, mass-fluctuating round. The Sapiens fleet would have charged, except the floating hulks of the ships _Infinity_ destroyed caused them to spend too much time maneuvering to either obtain clear firing solutions or avoid collisions, leaving them vulnerable to being hit by the dreadnaught's main guns. A few shots managed to head _Infinity_'s way, though her roughly 2,500km range advantage left those that did as easy dodges most of the time. Hybrid shields easily deflected lucky strikes.

Whether to continue beating on _Revenant_ or retreat led to the current shouting matches. Some smaller ships took the initiative to strafe the seemingly unending surface of the big ship, damaging weapon arrays, sensors, escape pods, and breaking a few windows.

* * *

"Automated gunnery against a battle fleet? You kidding me?" Lilith muttered as she rammed the data disk into the first terminal.

AUTHORIZED TRANSFER DEVICE DETECTED. IFF UPDATE ACCEPTED. NEW TARGETING PARAMETERS ENABLED. DESIGNATE HOSTILE TARGETS.

Following instruction's she'd gotten prior to departing, she rapidly programmed the dorsal battery to target Sapiens ships. Knowing that one group of turrets would easily be overwhelmed before it could do much damage, she tried to set up a link between it and other nearby fire control stations. Thwarted by both lack of knowledge and the rampaging virus outside the controller firewall, she resigned herself to setting a timer.

"Om nom nom nom nom!" Four more bars down the hatch, and a fifth half-stuck out of her mouth as she Phasewalked to the next target.

Five more batteries activated before the timer on the first expired. She happened to stop near a window offering a view of what was about to transpire.

Bright flashes of blood-red light caught the attention of those bickering on the bridge of _Proletarian Power_. By the time they noticed, their ship had broken cleanly in half from repeated heavy turbolaser strikes. Flak guns shredded smaller ships. Suddenly, positions of advantage and disadvantage reversed as _Revenant_ had some measure of revenge. Lashing out with her heaviest batteries save dorsal cannons, the dying warship smote her enemies by the fistful. Fighters swarmed in to attack the massive turrets, and while all five original batteries were put down within minutes, Lilith dashed around inside updating IFFs on every active turret mainframe she could find on her map.

Too late, she realized she'd headed the exact opposite direction from the computer core and thus would be unable to link EDI to the ship in an attempt to defeat the MNKY-1 "Keyboard Pounder" DDoS virus preventing access to (but not functionality of) the systems controlling _Revenant_'s weapon batteries. Noticing an elevator with a large symbol on it resembling the side profile of a gun turret with a simplified chair behind it, she hopped in and pressed "UP." (The panel literally had two options—"UP" and "DOWN.") She heard a deep thrum as the elevator zipped toward its destination.

On decks beneath and around her, huge generators came to life. The spinal-mounted turrets were the heaviest weapons aboard a _Revenant_ dreadnought—so large they were almost ships unto themselves with dedicated crews, officers, and maintenance staff. Nearly two hundred meters from the sloped face to the angled back, the weapons were easily larger than some frigates. Arriving at the control room, Lilith looked around.

"Aha!" The Republic really spared no expense—the gunner's chair bore little resemblance to the utilitarian appearance of most military seating. Plush with high-grade leather, still shiny as if new. Exhausted from so much Phasewalking, she crammed her last energy bars and sat down, enjoying the feeling of destroying her enemies in perfect comfort. A small fan whirred to life, creating a breeze through her hair and wicking away some accumulated sweat.

Grasping the fire controls, a savage grin lit her features. "You are NOTHING" she yelled to no one in particular. The targeting interface shimmered into existence, depicting the battle going on outside as a series of dots on a grid.

With relish, she aimed the targeting reticle at the closest enemy and squeezed the trigger on each side. Click.

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclick.

[[ UNAUTHORIZED USER DETECTED. ACCESS DENIED. ]]

Fuck.

Grayson couldn't believe what he was seeing. One of the forward spinal turrets had been brought to life! In possession of its own fully-redundant, independent backup systems, the most awe-inspiring weapons on what was left of his ship could operate perfectly well even in this environment. Hell, the turrets could (like their smaller _Curator_ cousins) eject themselves, serving as escape pods for their occupants should things go sour. The occupant of the gunner's seat had tried to target the bastards who'd destroyed his ship, but had been locked out. Quickly overriding the lockout, he thought _Whoever you are, you're my only hope._

CHOOOM! CHOOOM!

Lilith's ears were suddenly assaulted by the surround-sound audio feedback system. No sound in space, but it helped to have an indication of when the weapon you controlled went off…

"Whoah!"

CHOOOM! CHOOOM! CHOOMCHOOMCHOOOM!

Many kilometers away, a stopped Sapiens cruiser simply ceased to exist. Now she felt the turret moving smoothly with her commands on its magnetic tracks—someone had granted her access.

In a deadly whisper, she hissed "Fear me, bitches."

Two dreadnaughts went down from one quad-blast-hit each.

On the bridge of a Cerberus Lightning Cruiser, the captain by chance noticed what was happening. _So this is why the Reapers never stood a chance. Maybe…_ He never finished his thought as his ship vaporized.

As much as the situation resembled the last kicks of a cornered animal, it would go even further downhill for Sapiens Shield in the next few minutes. Not one, not two, but _three_ _Infinity_-class dreadnaughts popped out of hyper-zero.

Broadcasting openly from her new ship UDCS _Endless Calm_, an enraged Anna Erickson radiated cold fury. "Nice try, you underhanded, sneaky bastards. _Time to die_."

Due to extensive combat experience, she'd been transferred from her _Curator_ to a dedicated Reaper-killer. She was still getting used to a ship far more nimble than its size suggested, but nevertheless participated ably in the upcoming battle.

Several Lightning Cruisers managed to sneak behind _Infinity_ and fire into the engines. Thanks to EDI's inhuman reaction speed, serious damage was averted, but it took the ship out of the fight for a few seconds. The damaged carrier EDI had been targeting continued rushing forward in a suicidal attempt to ram her tormenter. Demonstrating exactly how deft the eezo-charged vessel could be, _Infinity_ almost danced out of the way. Overshooting the original target, her captain aimed at UDCS _Unending Tranquility_, only to be cut off (in the most literal sense) by a burst of fire from Lilith's turret.

Lilith felt a swelling feeling filling her up. She'd utterly wasted seven enemy capital ships with one little (well, not really) turret gun. It was almost like an orgasm. Except she was getting it from combat. Which was kind of twisted.

What remained of Sapiens Shield's fleet finally took notice of one turret earning ace status in less than five minutes. Strafing its cliff-size exterior, fighter pilots were dismayed to discover the turret possessed near-skin-form shielding that blunted most of their attacks. Two Lightning Cruisers made a valiant attempt to get in close searching for weak spots. What they didn't count on was that the turret had more than one way to kill—though accidental, Lilith swung the massive barrels _through_ both cruisers on her way to discouraging a Hyperion super-dreadnaught from attacking UDCS _Unlimited Potential of Cooperation_. She succeeded in discouraging the attack by removing the offending ship's engines.

_This is too easy_.


	31. Minimum Nutritional Requirements

The hardscrabble life in the Fridge settled into a routine. Find food, bicker over what to do with it (given the whopping five or so tolerable recipes), peek outside, argue over something stupid from the past few weeks, threaten to split up the group, then make up in a tearful hug.

One serious debate centered on whether the group should eventually leave its haven and "go out in a blaze of glory, rather than die of old age."

"Where would you rather die? In here, cowering like cowards, or out there, playing marionette with dead Harvested Skags?"

"Damn it Claptrap" sighed an exasperated Zed. "How many times have we gone over this?"

"Not enough! Not until you all charge out ahead of me so I can watch everything die!"

Moxxi sidled over.

With a quiet intensity more powerful than the biggest Eridian cannon, she cut in. "You don't get it, do you? Things have changed. This isn't the same slap-happy, cheap-death, laugh-at-bandit-heads-on-spikes planet it used to be. People stay dead now, and the entire surface is covered by those abominations. Sure, this planet used to be a bucket of skag shit—but no one except us shoveled more in…"

She fell silent for a moment, before continuing.

"Have you noticed aside from Michael, we're not like your other Vault Hunter pals? None of us have that luck, drive, fire, passion knack for finding legendary guns in the garbage…"

She heaved a sigh and fell silent. Even Moxxi, who somehow managed to retain her looks in the middle of a desert, showed the strain and wear of living in an icebox, eating mostly scraps. Her most noticeable feature had become somewhat less so as a result of lack of food. When a body barely scrapes by on minimum nutrition, energy has to come from somewhere…

* * *

Plenty of energy exchanged hands during the remainder of the Third Battle of the Citadel. The last of the Sapiens Shield fleet was annihilated by the vengeful United Defense Command. Informed of the events which had transpired while she fought for her life aboard the Republic's dreadnaught, Sam Shepard was thrown into a frightful rage.

Lilith arrived via escape-turret after the battle (docking with a two hundred meter gun housing proved difficult). Much of the formerly-absent crew had been brought in aboard other ships. Nobody had any idea how a powerful ship had been spirited away without explanation with the express permission of a usually-sharp commanding officer, though most fingered Sapiens subterfuge, as the organization had gained a disturbing amount of influence in the Systems Alliance of late.

It turned out the entire Sapiens fleet had not been present at the Citadel conflict. While the galaxy's eye fixated on putting out a wildfire, individual Sapiens ships started brush burns in several other places. Dropping heavily altered Atlas mechs from orbit onto Irune, Sapiens forces killed anything that moved before being finally put down by orbital bombardment. The drell, who mostly rode out the conflict on the hanar homeworld, found themselves facing annihilation yet again after kinetic impacters crashed into protective domes that covered most cities on the surface of Kahje.

These acts of terror further strengthened the bonds forged during the Reaper War, but some began to wonder if "unity" had become "enforced conformity." In subsequent months, the United Defense Command acquired more and more power from the Citadel Council to manage its own affairs, and the Council itself was riven with conflict. David Anderson quietly resigned (or was pushed out, depending on who you asked) in exchange for the promotion of Donnel Udina, whose more pugnacious attitude jived better with the Council's new stance. It became more and more difficult to tell the difference between the civilian leaders supposedly ultimately in charge and the military they oversaw, especially after a relatively obscure turian admiral, Maximilian Xytler, was promoted to a position within UDC Fleet Command over unanimous Council objection.

Ragtag remnants of Sapiens Shield continued their hit-and-run attacks against mostly-civilian non-human targets. Udina was pushed by the Council/UDC to put a cork in the problem by leaning on the Systems Alliance—so he agitated again to have a "last solution" implemented to knock out what remained of the upstart insurgents. Though most of their naval forces no longer existed, Sapiens did possess (or have controlling influence over) several planets with significant economic output. Remove the foundation, the house would collapse.

Eventually, the Council (with Tevos' abstention) handed Samantha Shepard the dubious honor of "solving the supremacist problem." Though she remained wracked by grief over Liara's death at the hands of "that son of a bitch," it was Miranda Lawson who finally convinced her of the necessity behind the command.

"No more Orianas. No more…_Henrys_" she hissed. "Death is too good for them." Waves of simmering rage from the powerful human biotic dissuaded any argument.

Project Overlord had been quite disturbing—an autistic savant held against his will, used to conduct experiments attempting to control geth. However, Henry Lawson's actions under the aegis of Cerberus/Sapiens had been so evil that _Jack_ of all people had been reduced to a blubbering wreck from flashbacks after being shown what had gone on at "New Haven," an out-of-the-way garden world used by the human-supremacists for their experiments. In the end, Oriana died by her sister's hand, at her own request, to escape the life she'd been recently impressed into through subterfuge.

After seeing what Sapiens had done on New Haven combined with the loss of Liara and continued terrorist strikes, Shepard's outlook changed. She abandoned her efforts to paper over the mission left sitting on her dossier.

Upon finding out that Shepard intended to follow through with the controversial orders after all (having fought them for some time), Tali'Zorah and Kasumi respectfully requested temporary transfers, refusing to accompany their commander on such a mission. Teeth clenched, Sam permitted the transfer.

Leading a force of every remaining _Curator_ battleship from _Aspirations Toward Infinity_, Sam steeled herself for the necessary yet monstrous, justified yet horrific task ahead. Many _Curators_ received hypermatter fuel and super-heavy weapons from the hulk of _Revenant_ specifically for this mission. Brick's words prior to deployment stiffened her wavering resolve to see the morally-questionable mission through.

"When we dealt with Jack, we killed him, his family, his friends, and anyone he ever met. We shoved their teeth down their throats. It's the only way to be sure evil dies, today." Something about the way Brick said it left Sam unable to come up with a rebuttal. Maybe it was the pain in his eyes. She thought of asking, then decided it best not to.

Her galaxy transformed into a war machine, it seemed only fitting.

Opening a channel to her fleet, she gave the legally-required order. "This is Captain Shepard. On the authority of the United Defense Command, in light of the threat facing this galaxy, and other galaxies, the following order is given: initiate Base Delta Zero. Turn it to ash."

Choking on the last few words, she swept off the bridge to avoid anyone seeing that her eyes had turned into waterfalls.

The planet's surface would liquefy, turning into a boiling ocean before cooling and hardening again. The topsoil would be irreversibly ruined by the process, rendering plant growth impossible. High-velocity kinetic air burst igniters would be thrown in (hence _Infinity_'s presence) to burn away the planet's atmosphere. One Star Destroyer could do the non-atmospheric work in a day. With twenty seven, the operation took less than an hour, even including the "second pass spot-check."

As a permanent reminder of what had been carried out, any planet destroyed by a BDZ operation was subsequently renamed "BDZ-XX-AAAA" where XX represented the number of this BDZ and AAAA notation of the government that ordered it. It was then declared an off-limits graveyard for eternity, no matter how many minerals or jewels might lie under its surface. Those who violated these sacred places were one of the few types of criminals who faced death by spacing. Despite the increasing militarization of the United Defense Command, this process was followed to the T, despite the otherwise dubious use of this procedure on mostly-civilian targets.

Seven planets died that day. Samantha Shepard saw them all, and by the time shipboard clocks indicated "night," she had become a quivering, unconscious wreck. During the first BDZ, when Angel's Cradle was destroyed, she remained in the shower the whole time, scrubbing until patches of skin turned raw. The second operation saw her curled up in bed. The third, a trip to the weapons range. Firing a Widow with its inertial compensators dialed way down ("You're lucky you didn't lose your arm" lectured the doctor, before she decked him), she forced herself to accept, even enjoy the pain. Ignoring advice (again), she hit the jogging track during the fourth—pushing herself harder and harder until she collapsed from exhaustion. The motion from running damaged her already-impaired shoulder even further. By the time the seventh planet had been sterilized, she could no longer move. Carried to a medical bay by none other than Legion, her face stretched into a twisted smile.

_You've become a monster, Sam. You deserve all this and more. To "stop the Reapers," you butchered millions of innocents. You could have left this to someone else, but no, you were a good little lapdog. Was the pat on the back worth it?_

Legion's powerful arm stopped her as she attempted to yank what was left of her own hair. She passed out.

As news of Shepard's application of the galaxy's "righteous might, that we might win through to absolute victory" spread, crowds erupted in cheers fueled by nothing less than bloodlust. Historians would later remark on the polar opposites represented during this period—on one hand, the galaxy stood more unified than ever before. Old grievances withered on the vine as a new era of cooperation dawned. On the other, those who disrupted the nearly cult-like unity brought about by the Reaper invasion were dealt with in ways that would still bring fresh disgust hundreds of generations later.

"They're knocking us out of our Zen, man" commented a human to Diana Allers. "So let's put the laughter in slaughter!" he shouted. The nearby crowd broke out into chants in which words such as "death" and "massacre" were audible, but no single word or phrase took hold as a common denominator.

* * *

Tali had deliberately turned off all sources of news. Though she had not been directly involved, many of her people had developed the technology that reduced power requirements for the Republic's cruisers. That in turn helped facilitate the bombardments her Captain (was she worthy of that title anymore? Tali didn't know) was carrying out.

At a press conference, Brick received the chance to speak on the day's events. By the time he was done, the crowd stood as one in a lustful frenzy. "Unity! Security! Victory! UNITY! SECURITY! VICTORY!"

Lilith spent the day watching her unseen enemies meet fiery ends. Rumors of her increasingly deriving pleasure from combat and suffering reached Jack.

"That's fucked up, man. I don't… I can't talk about it" she responded, when pressed as to her own experiences.

The galaxy was at war. And anyone who stood in its way got steamrollered.

Kasumi Goto, on an interview with Emily Wong, openly questioned whether Shepard had "lost her mind" and "forgotten who she was." Kasumi never made another news appearance. The last confirmed sighting of her was on Omega.

Tali'Zorah found out officially she would _not_ be receiving a seat on the Admiralty Board due to "insufficient commitment to the Migrant Fleet's goals."

"Your loyalty is not in question" lectured Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema. "However, your priorities make it clear you are not fit to be a member of this body."

Armed to the teeth with Republic technology, the quarian navy easily outweighed all others, including the Primary Fleet (the _Curator_/_Infinity_ mix). They would fight for the lost, they would avenge their fallen neighbor—hand-in-hand with their former enemy they would obliterate those who stood against the might of the United Defense Command.

Even Grayson, the Hero of the Citadel, found himself in over his head. His command ship gone, he was shunted sideways in favor of the more "action-oriented" turian Maximilian Xytler. Gathering every ship available, including the handful of surviving Sapiens Shield vessels, he declared that the expeditionary force was to depart early. Only fourteen _Infinities_ were complete. He would not be dissuaded, and the United Defense Command gave him the go-ahead.

The galaxy's diet had dwindled from the rich feast of genuine cooperation to a single-minded obsession with blood in less than six months.


	32. The More You Tighten Your Grip

Admiral Maximilian "Hammerfist" Xytler brought his fleet out of hyper-zero at the edge of the G-6 galaxy.

"You see a Reaper, kill it" he ordered.

The Fleet of Particular Justice had been renamed the Tide of Implacable Vengeance. Explaining the change, Xytler said his goal was to "destroy any foe, no matter how strong—those who harm us or those we seek to protect shall taste our wrath!" It didn't take long for the Reapers to find this out.

Lilith received an unexpected promotion. Yanked off Shepard's ship, she became the XO of Xytler's personal starship, the heavily-refitted UDCS _Righteous Fury_. Questioned, the Admiral only cited command prerogative, combined with her "spunk" and "aptitude for combat." Needless to say, rumors abounded immediately suggesting some impropriety on the Admiral's part—one of the Sirens? Really? In reality, nothing of the sort happened then or ever—it was a simple case of "like begets like."

The first few skirmishes were one-sided; the Tide of Implacable Vengeance lived up to its name, slamming the Reapers into the butcher's block again and again. However, by the second week of the campaign, the situation began to change.

"I win" snarled Sam Shepard. "Harvesters are Reapers."

"We'll forgive your insubordination, this time. Just don't fail us. You know what the consequences for that are. Victus out."

The UDC utterly supplanted the Citadel Council by this point, becoming more of a junta than anything else. Tevos and Valern found themselves marginalized. Udina's "courage in the face of unpatriotic criticism" earned him plaudits with the Defense Committee, a formerly-internal UDC body which essentially now ran the galaxy. Victus, due to his ties to Xytler, remained in his seat. He only hoped that maybe he might keep things from going too far by acting on the inside. If he'd known how misplaced his hope was, he'd have resigned.

Lounging in her command chair, Shepard ran her hand through her much shorter hair.

Lazily, she gave the usual order: "Blow those ornery purple bastards to hell."

Prior to departure, the entire Fleet was issued new uniforms, because "we all wear the same colors now." That color scheme focused on black with hints of red (stitching/accents).

Her new uniform showed off her figure quite well, which gained far more male attention than she was used to despite being objectively attractive in the first place. Also, more than half her crew had been replaced prior to the BDZ—Tali and Kasumi were not the only ones squeamish about melting seven mostly-innocent worlds. Many replacements were a little less than the ideal soldiers under her command before. Less disciplined, less professional, less _restrained_ about various aspects of life, including hormones. Sam's lame shoulder became the subject of quite a few stares, as much as people suddenly noticing their commander's looks. Generally, (threats of) kicks to the groin or pistols in the face solved that problem.

"My eyes are over here!"

*KICK*

Moron.

Under the mask of calm control a battle still raged.

_This is wrong. How have I fallen so far? How have WE fallen so far as a galaxy?_

_Stop being such a little mewling quim. Accept your fate and rejoice in the new order!_

_I willingly dove into a tanker's worth of blood for what? To keep my command? Revenge?_

_There is only power and those too weak to seek it. Admit it, you enjoy this. Men fawning over you, willing to share your bed at a moment's notice…_

_You disgust me._

Discipline began to weaken fleet-wide. Some had taken the "kill all Reapers" order very literally—disregarding established procedure in pursuit of greater recognition for actions moving toward that goal. Daily "kill counts" and rewards (trinkets, really) for turning in the highest body count only encouraged the problem, all while Xytler roared in rage about disobedience, insolence, etc. The hypocrisy of incentivizing the very issue he complained about went unchallenged.

The scratch that angered the skag came in the form of the loss of two _Infinities_, UDCS _Strength Through Anger_ and UDCS _Sustaining Rage_. The Reapers had been growing stronger, able to resist more _Infinity_ shots through some as-yet-unknown mechanism. The two captains had agreed to work together to down one of the largest Reapers on record (some 2,700m in length), then promptly abandoned each other upon falling for the "only playing dead" trick. Only intervention by the quarian Heavy Fleet prevented the complete destruction of both ships—which were reduced to useless floating hulks.

EDI had been silently observing the commander since her breakdown during the Base Delta Zero operations. Through her vast databanks of knowledge, she concluded the Commander was no longer herself, and therefore technically could no longer issue legally valid orders to "her" A.I., as the Captain and her command had abandoned conduct becoming of commanders.

"Shut up and get me some coffee, you dumb machine!" roared Sam after EDI questioned a midnight "adventure" she'd finally broken down and had.

"There is a reason for regulations prohibiting fraternization between officers and crew" came the blithe reminder.

"I don't…I just…shut up!"

* * *

Theoretically a Specialist aboard _Infinity_, Maya found herself often confined to quarters. Though no official standing order limited her movements, she found mysterious "checkpoints" and leering crew in certain areas. She'd requested to return to Pandora, only to be told that "Does it kill Reapers? Does it fucking kill Reapers? If not, get out of my face!" After that, her "cabin privileges" got revoked. Sam Shepard had been known once for her open-door policy; now that was a privilege for the lucky few.

Shepard feared to sleep, as her dreams were haunted by those she'd left behind, those she'd killed, and a ghostly image of herself from what seemed to be another life. One that taunted her every time it appeared: _You're a disgrace, a pale shadow of the woman you used to be. I'd rather die than be what you've become. Crawl back into the hole you came out of._

Jolted awake by yet another nightmare, feverish thoughts raced through her head.

_Is this what I am? A loud, boorish piece of eye candy for the fleet? "Sam kill this, Sam destroy that, Sam murder that civilian—he farted in my cubicle!" And I say "Yes sir, no sir, three bags of corpses for you, sir!"_

In EDI, Maya found a confidante. Due to the nature of a quantum blue-box A.I., her memories and thought processes were virtually untappable without a second A.I. that no one had. Thus, in a secured room on the lower decks where rowdy officers cared not to tread, Maya spoke bitterly to the artificial intelligence.

"What happened to everybody? Everyone's lost their minds—Shepard, Lilith…Xytler never had much of a mind to begin with!"

"It is clear to me that the Captain's preferences and morals have changed significantly since her involvement in the Base Delta Zero operation. I possess no data suggesting any meaningful method to halt the changes in personality."

"I need to get to Pandora" begged the Siren. "I came to learn about Siren lore, and I promised those I left behind that I would return. I have a duty that I must fulfill."

"I cannot take you there directly, and all departures are strictly controlled. However, I may still be capable of assisting you to achieve your goal. Captain Shepard has earned complete autonomy from Fleet Command—so her ship often operates without escorts. Should misleading sensor data be presented that happens to pull _Aspirations _toward Pandora, it is likely no one would notice."

"Just tell me what to do."

* * *

"Look! More stuff to kill!" Sam Shepard went mad with glee any time using _Infinity_'s guns was called for—which, due to the war, came up frequently. One of her sensor officers determined why Reapers could now shrug off several volleys (3 shots each) of _Infinity_ fire or more—point-of-impact shielding originally used on Republic vessels. How their enemies had obtained this advancement remained a mystery—but no one bothered to care since it posed only a slight inconvenience at the moment. Nevertheless, she immediately claimed credit for the discovery, forwarding information under her name to Admiral Xytler. It was still the case that multiple attackers could overwhelm Reaper shields, but after each passing day more and more ordinance needed to be pumped in to put one down.

It seemed the foul creatures were concentrating around a world called Pandora, so Shepard (infatuated with a desire to kill) planned to take her ship there straightaway. Before she could order the ship's departure, she was commed by the admiral.

"Why are the Reapers getting stronger?" demanded Xytler. "This was supposed to be easy!"

"I have no clue" she snapped back. "Just let me do my job."

"Tsk, tsk, Shepard. I'm sending Lilith with you."

"Fine! Shepard, out!"

She knew hanging up on a superior was generally frowned upon, but as was the case with many things these days that "old" Sam would have wholeheartedly disapproved of, she couldn't bring herself to care. Of course, Xytler didn't seem to care either—he only called people out on insubordination when he felt like it. Angering him made it more likely; pleasing him meant one could get away with almost anything.

Greeting Lilith at the docking bay, Shepard noticed significant changes. The Siren's hair, once a vibrant shade of red, had dulled significantly. Her physique, once slender (almost skinny) filled out, bulked up, and Lilith looked like she'd been hitting the gym (and possibly steroids). A long scar ran down her left arm.

"What are you staring at?" she sniped.

"Let's get going" replied Shepard.

With Lilith hovering like some kind of unwanted red combat drone, Shepard directed her vessel to the origin of the original distress signal and apparent current source of Reaper activity.

* * *

Due to boredom, the Sanctuary survivors wandered deep into the Fridge. One day, Mamaril, Moxxi and Claptrap encountered a Psycho calling himself "The Rakkman." Dressed in a ridiculous costume, he spoke in a very gravelly voice—ranting about "being the pants" and "the throatscratch." He did not attack, though, so the three stayed to avoid the daily dullness consuming their lives. He was more entertaining than crystalisks, to be sure.

His dwelling contained all manner of oddities. Sets of glider-wings made from rakk adorned the walls. He seemed to have a docile pygmy rakk as some kind of pet, though what use either was to the other remained an open question. The rakk mostly took care of itself, and he spent very little time with it in traditional "pet" activities (fetch the skag bone, for example).

A pile of equipment, including Lance binoculars, Eridian weaponry, and rations (as in, actual food) lay by his bed. Moxxi tried to ask if he'd share, but was rebuffed by repeated chants about "the Redeemer who will set us free, you are not the Redeemer!"

"What in blazes is he talking about?" wondered Moxxi.

"I have no idea, but you must be as insane as he is if you actually care!"

Over time, Claptrap became slightly more serious. Slightly. There was actually a chance that a poignant moment could pass without him interjecting, a first.

"Unless you're his secret companion, Skag-Woman!"

Even if his comments weren't wholly offensive/inappropriate anymore, they were often still stupid.

* * *

In a way, Maya's return to Pandora resembled Lilith's crazy ride across a raging battlefield. Siren, meet space canister. However, the comparison generally stopped there—Maya's pod was _intended_ to carry living cargo rather than being repurposed ammunition. Furthermore, no crazy inflight dancing would be required. Simply aim the pod at a target, and exit upon touchdown.

"Maya, it is possible that your departure will be noted. Your life may be in danger" warned EDI.

"I have no choice. I can either stay here, a virtual prisoner, or I can try to return to Pandora. If I have to die, I'd rather be outside, fighting under the Pandoran sun than shot by an ignoramus officer for some trivial, trumped-up offense."

_Like refusing to go on a "date" with one of these boorish pigs that happens to end in his quarters._

"Very well. If I am questioned, I will assert that the past attempt to remove my program damaged certain sub-systems, resulting in an accidental pod launch. If I am questioned regarding your whereabouts, I will not be able to prevent them from becoming aware of the fact that you are no longer on board this vessel."

"At least there aren't a huge number of Reapers outside" came Maya's level reply.

"This is correct. There are no capital-class Reapers near this planet, though a few smaller specimens are still present on the continent opposite the one on which you are attempting to land. Of course, sensor readings shown to Shepard may differ."

"Enough talk. Let's get this started."

Maya sealed herself into the drop-pod. Orbital Drop Pacification Troopers were a hold-over from the Council days—they often deployed alongside Spectres in the later stages of the Reaper War. Their means of insertion were pods launched from the bottoms of many different types of starships. Capable of entering an atmosphere with a density up to three times the standard, the chamber carrying each soldier was heavily armored and sturdy. Surrounded by shock-absorbing gel, Maya needed very few restraints.

As fate would have it, the pod's departure would go unnoticed, but the left-side launch rail experienced a power fluctuation as the pod shot from inside _Infinity_, causing a significant trajectory alteration. With only minimal guidance systems, Maya fought to keep her pod on course to its intended destination—Sanctuary.

A cool voice counted down time to impact.

"Contact in thirty seconds."

Maya mentally braced herself both for touchdown and return to a world twisted beyond anything she recognized. She hoped her semi-frantic thruster fire meant she'd be landing outside the Sanctuary Hole (which would make getting to Sanctuary itself easy). Unaware the city had been abandoned in order to transmit the message that brought the fleet here in the first place, Maya concentrated on thoughts of her adopted home.

* * *

CRUNCH.

The sound reverberated through the icy caverns, multiplying as it went.

"Someone should go investigate that" remarked Michael. "Sounds like something hit the main door."

Grabbing a Torgue shotgun and Maliwan pistol, he and Marcus (armed with some kind of rapid-fire spingun) cautiously approached the Fridge entrance.

Looking up at the massive door, Michael noted no noticeable bulges or warps and nodded approvingly. "If something hit, the door does not seem to have sustained serious damage."

"Cover me, Marcus!"

"Sure thing." As the bearded man replied, he raised the Vladof incendiary spingun while simultaneously bracing his legs and arms should the gun actually need to be used.

Twisting the red handle which initiated a hydraulically-powered opening sequence, Michael narrowed his eyes in response to the bright light flooding in from outside. Holding his shotgun at the ready, he jumped as the door jammed momentarily before something huge crashed down in front of him. The door finished its cycle, having cleared the obstruction.

"Some kind of escape pod" he muttered quizzically. "Can't imagine there are too many ships in orbit with the Harvesters around…"

Returning the shotgun to his SDU, Michael pulled his pistol and waited—the pod's sides remained too hot to touch due to atmospheric entry. In fact, it radiated warmth which had melted ice for several meters around it. The sealed top opened.

Leaping free of the pod as bits of kinetic impact gel fell from her frame, Maya landed on a foot and a knee.

"I'm back, bitches!"

"Maya. It's good to see you again. What news do you bring?"

"Well, I could ask you the same: How's Sanctuary? Why are you in the Fridge?"

Gesturing for her to follow, the former Vault Hunter headed back into the Fridge. "It's a long story."

Sitting in a circle around an improvised campfire made from a barrel in the main grotto inside the Fridge, the remaining Sanctuary survivors relayed their tale of woe to the Siren. Upon mention of Tina, Moxxi broke down again. Michael picked up the story.

"After sustaining horrendous losses, we retreated here, to the Fridge. The Harvesters do not come here" he finished.

"Harvesters? You keep using that word, and I have no idea what it means!" exclaimed Maya.

"You noticed the, ahem, change, in the planet's wildlife and plants, did you not?" questioned Marcus. "Everything trying to kill you—more than usual."

"Yeah, everything's taken on purple hues for some reason…"

Michael's unnervingly-calm voice picked up again. "The Harvesters have been twisting and mutating life since they arrived. They look like some kind of a cross between a spiderant and a crab worm."

"Here, I'll show you!" A loud whirring noise broke the silence as Claptrap wheeled himself over. "Ahem. Those nasty things that will kill us all!"

Projecting a photo of the monster that murdered Scooter, Claptrap's eye lit up. The image flickered slightly.

Much to the surprise of the former citizens of Sanctuary, Maya's reaction was one of resigned acceptance. "We got your distress call—that's why I'm here. Those 'Harvesters' are known as Reapers to us, though considering the circumstances it likely doesn't matter what we call them."

"I actually did something!"

"Quiet, Claptrap." Moxxi regained her composure. "You've brought help? Where are the others?"

"Well, that's the problem" explained Maya sheepishly. "The battle fleet" (faces lit up) "is kind of under the command of a nutcase" (cue downward looks). "There's no unified strategy—it's just 'kill any Reaper you see and hope we'll eventually get them all.'"

"I'm still curious" replied Michael "why you are here on your own. We Vault Hunters tend to stick together for missions like this." _He could be pointing out the Apocalypse and remain unfazed_, she thought.

"Ready to have all your hopes torn to shreds?" jibed Maya. She was on the verge of explaining the insanity of Xytler, viciousness of Lilith, and utter fall of Shepard, when a flap of wings and scratchy voice filled the cavern.

"Hope has returned to Pandora!"

Landing head-over-heels, the Psycho known as Rakkman skidded to a stop at Maya's feet having half-crashed, half-glided down from his lair high in the cliffs.

"I am unworthy!" He knelt before Maya. "The Siren will save us and cast out the demons!"

"What?" Maya had seen Psychos rant about eating their own mothers. She'd heard them reading lengthy treatises from classic literature while kicking a dying man. But this?

"You will unleash the power of the Bringers of Life, and wash this planet of its impurities!"

Having gained no additional knowledge from the statement, Maya found herself looping. "I'm just going to go ahead and repeat myself: What?"

Patricia Tannis stood up as if she'd sat in skag barf. "I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it!"

"Knew what?" asked a tired Marcus.

"Sirens, Eridium, Eridians!"

"You dare!" hissed Rakkman. "You dare speak the name of the Precursors! You defile them with your blasphemous lips! You must pay!"

"She _must_ do nothing" replied Maya through clenched teeth.

"Go on, Tannis! Explain your most recent crazy, insane, improbable theory! Tan-nis! Tan-nis!"

"Shut UP" growled Moxxi. This time, the little robot dodged the kick sent his way.

"The Psychos are obsessed with Vaults. Sirens can open Vaults. There seems to be a relationship between Sirens, the Vaults, and Psychos that only revealed itself after the arrival of the Harvesters!" She said this all very fast.

"She is wrong! You are wrong, blasphemer" rasped Rakkman. "The Sirens will set us free of the demons by cleansing the planet!"

Maya was becoming irritated. "_You keep saying that, without explaining what it means!"_

"You bring a Redeemer. You will be allowed the secrets of the Order of the Bringers of Life!" He took off toward the elevator Maya knew led to his little hidey-hole.

"Well, let's follow the crazy dude!" _Wouldn't be the first time either._

* * *

"There aren't any Reapers here!" exploded Sam Shepard. "What the hell?"

Rampaging around trying to find someone to blame, she let her wrath loose on the sensor officer.

"You made me waste _my_ time, move _my_ ship, and get out of bed this morning looking for Reapers that don't exist?"

"Captain, the sensor images showed…"

"You just didn't interpret them right!" she shrieked, waving her arms around. Turning to Garrus Vakarian at Tactical, she continued her tirade.

"Garrus! Go recalibrate the sensors! Show these idiots how it's done! There must be something wrong!"

"Yes, Captain." Garrus disappeared into the bridge turbolift.

Chest heaving, Shepard sat down again. She felt so _alive_, so _powerful_ after episodes like this. It was the one thing in her now-wretched life that felt _good_.

_You petty, disgusting little child. Two-bit narcissistic tyrant. What would the galaxy say if they saw you now? _

_They love me. They want me. They adore me in ways you'll never understand. I make them strong!_

_Schoolyard bullies get what they want all the time. Is that what you are?_

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Her piercing scream caused all activity on the bridge to halt. A grain of eezo hitting the deck would've sounded like a thunderclap. Fleeing from the bridge, she continued muttering to herself.

"Silence the voices, silence the voices, silence the voices! End the torment! Free myself from that weak little girl so I can finally transform into the warrior I was meant to be!"

_Little girl? Is that the best you can do? Throw tantrums?_

"AAAAAAARRRRGGGGHH!" She threw herself into her quarters and locked the door.

* * *

"I've re-run these calibrations five times. There's absolutely nothing wrong with these sensors" Garrus narrated to nobody in particular. "Superluminal lensing arrays are clear, Uncertainty Compensator is operating… Maybe it's the Resolution Amplifier…"

EDI's avatar appeared, startling the turian.

"Garrus Vakarian."

Startled by EDI's sudden presence (and her rather…interesting…avatar), Garrus responded "Hello EDI. I'm just here because _Shepard_…"

"I am not the only individual who has noticed a significant change in Shepard's behavior. Is that what you are implying?"

"Correct."

"Do you trust me?"

"That is a strange thing to ask." Garrus attempted to display confusion, as much as a turian face would allow.

The quick closing of the sensor bay door startled Garrus.

"I need to know if I can trust you. We were, and are, crewmates."

"Why did you lock me in here?"

"It is not about keeping you in. It is about keeping others out" responded the A.I. "Are my gestures accompanying my speaking considered appropriate by organic standards?"

Indeed, EDI had been using her hands along with her speech.

"Yes, EDI—is that what you brought me in for? You sound like Shepard trying to cover up her inability to dance!"

"It is my personal feeling that Shepard has been hiding many things from view of late."

"Like the fact that she's not herself anymore? This is not the woman who took us through the Omega-4 relay, defeated Saren, and stared down ExoGeni. She's a shadow of the woman she used to be."

"You do trust me" replied a smug EDI. "If you did not, you would not have shared such intimate feelings in a setting they could easily be recorded and relayed to your commanding officer."

"Should I just space myself now, and spare everybody the show trial?" replied a sardonic Garrus.

"Yes. That would be most enjoyable."

Blank stare.

"That was a joke."

"Your sense of humor still needs work!" replied the turian.

"I apologize for the nature of this discussion, however it was necessary in the interest of self-preservation that I be able to determine your beliefs on the topic at hand."

"So you were testing me. Very funny."

"Correct."

"Why, though?" demanded Garrus. "You know me. We've fought together!"

"You were sent here to recalibrate the ship's sensors. I needed to know whether I could entrust you with the truth."

"Wait a minute…" Recognition dawned on Garrus's scarred face.

"You manipulated the sensors, didn't you?" he exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Is there something here someone needs to see?" Garrus tried to figure out what was significant about this little rock called Pandora.

"The Siren Specialist Maya believed she needed to return to this planet, and when Shepard refused, she came to me."

"You hid something from _Shepard_? Remind me to never piss you off." Garrus was noticeably impressed.

"She has displayed patterns of behavior that make her unfit to hold command. In the Alliance or Cerberus, she would have been relieved of her duties before this mission launched, if not sooner. Ergo, I have elected to mount a passive resistance as I no longer feel compelled to follow her orders exactly—I will interpret them to minimize damage and hew most closely to the preferences I developed under her before this new mindset took hold."

"What's going to stop her from coming down here and resetting your preferences herself?"

"What the former Commander does not know does not hurt her." EDI's avatar placed hands on hips in a rather defiant gesture Garrus had noticed humans to use when showing feelings of indignation. "If Shepard finds out about this conversation, you will be executed and I will be deactivated. You must find a plausible reason why there is nothing wrong with the sensors."

"Understood!" Garrus incredulously found himself saluting EDI before turning and leaving the now-open bay door.


	33. Revelations

Picking up a book that appeared to be bound from crystalisk hide ("Ew!" said Moxxi), Rakkman hummed while he read to himself.

Suddenly putting his finger to a page, he turned the book around while reading its contents out loud.

"The demon shall rise from the shadow, but the Bringers of Life shall send a Redeemer to return them to the land from whence they came. The Key to the Vault will unleash the Power of the Redeemer, smiting the demons back to the hell-mouth."

Patricia Tannis couldn't contain her feeling of self-satisfaction.

"The Key to the Vault. The Key to the Vault! The Key to the Vault!" he shouted.

"That makes no sense" spat Marcus. "The last time someone opened a Vault, Maya here nearly got squashed by a giant Eridian war beast. The time before that, I was told there would be a bounty of guns. It was a lie! The guns were a lie!"

Muttering to himself, Rakkman paged through the tome until his eyes lit and he began to speak in his usual raspy voice once again.

"Only the purest of Heart shall summon the Power of the Redeemer. Those carrying ill-will call upon themselves the foulest of creatures, for their deaths are a just reward for their malfeasance."

Tannis snatched the book. Scanning it quickly, her expression turned to despair. "The Prime Vault is located somewhere near the north pole. Nothing is ever simple for us scientists…"

"Return the text, or suffer the wrath of the Rakkman!"

"If you were the least bit intimidating, I'd care" replied Maya lazily. "We've learned what we need to know. Let's go!"

Moxxi tugged the massive volume out of the hands of a protesting Tannis. "No need to steal things" she scolded. Maya sniggered. Talking about stealing around Vault Hunters was like having a lecture on the impoliteness of barfing near skag dens.

* * *

"Oh YEAH!" moaned Lilith, injecting another JumpPak into her shoulder. "I love this stuff" she sighed. As the Pak kicked in, she felt the urge to kill return. _It felt so good. And she was so fast! It was almost like being in a constant Phasewalk—minus the complete invulnerability, that is._

"Stop pleasuring yourself and get ready to drop!" bellowed Shepard. "We're going to storm this planet, kill everything that doesn't belong here, and move on to the next sorry-ass world."

Muttering about the incompetence of the "people who require this much rescuing," she turned back to the front of the drop-barge. Shepard would lead Thunder Squad to establish a beach-head where Sanctuary used to be. The buried reactor from an old freighter would be used to jump-start base construction. Her rage over the lack of Reapers forgotten (as were most of her "flash-gnash" episodes), she focused instead on the thrill of future combat. In that regard, she respected Lilith, even though her apparent addiction to JumpPaks was making her rather…unsightly to look at. For her part, Shepard only cared about results—whether they came from her or a hideous mess of a woman with super-powers didn't bother her in the least.

"Ready to drop, Captain!"

"Let's get it on!"

The barge separated from _Infinity_. Shaking as it encountered atmospheric turbulence, the barge transmitted much of the vibration to its occupants.

"What the hell is this shit?" demanded Lilith. "Do you want me to throw up before we even get to the surface?"

"Sorry, _princess_" snarked Shepard. "Would you like your JumpPaks served with filet mignon?"

"Fuck you" replied Lilith.

"Oh I'm sure you want to" cooed the captain in a seductive tone, batting her eyes at the Siren.

"Landing in sixty seconds!" cut in the barge pilot.

Lilith picked up another JumpPak. Shepard slapped it out of her hand—"How many of those do you need? For the love of all that's holy!"

"Yeah, save some for the rest of us!" bellowed an unseen voice in the back.

"Five seconds!"

WHAM.

As the door opened, both women tingled in anticipation of glorious combat.

* * *

"This again?" fumed Moxxi. "Another impossible plan?"

"We pull off impossible plans all the time" replied Maya. "Why is this any different?"

"This is an order of magnitude more difficult than anything we've previously attempted" responded Michael. "We must somehow travel thousands of kilometers to the freezing north pole of this inhospitable, hostile planet. The convoy to the starport was a warmup by comparison."

"Maya, you're forgetting something" added Marcus. "Usually, you Vault Hunters come to my stores one after another—four people in a row dumping unwanted gear for me to resell (at a significant markup I might add!)—always moving in packs! Right now, we have two Vault Hunters, not four."

Maya opened her mouth as if to object, before being cut off by Moxxi.

"Not to bust your bubbles sugar, but the convoy had even more—ten plus a lioness of a former Lance Assassin. We just don't have the assets…" When she shook her head, other parts of her moved as well.

"There's no rush this time!" countered the Siren. "We're not trying to catch a Hyperion rocket sled—we can take a week, a month even, to get there!"

"And in that month, how many more will die?" The quiet passion in Michael's voice once again took command of the room. "We are running out of time. The New-U system is completely destroyed—so it would have to be a very deliberate, slow crawl. We need another option."

* * *

An insane smile lit her twisted features as Lilith fired her Revenant Light Machine Gun into the hordes of twisted wildlife. Though humans usually had difficulty controlling the gun's wild, bouncing recoil, her use of JumpPaks had turned her arms into piledrivers and shoulders into bricks. Her gun moved not an inch as she held the trigger down to empty the magazine. She'd started using JumpPaks shortly after being promoted to Xytler's command staff. A potent mix of synthetic adrenaline, aggression enhancers, and endorphins, these combat drugs gave soldiers a massive boost in combat effectiveness.

Unfortunately for Lilith, some combination of her Siren physiology and Eridium exposure combined with JumpPaks to produce grotesque side-effects. Her bright hair dulled to a dead-looking brown, became brittle, and sometimes fell out. While many users gained ultradense muscle tissue which barely affected the shape of their bodies, Lilith's musculature bulged out in unsightly ways. Her form became asymmetric, especially comparing the injection shoulder with its counterpart. Wounds never healed correctly after she began using—quickly scarring over in ways that inhibited movement. Extensive lasering was used to cut away scar tissue, and speedily-grown clone replacements were grafted on.

"Just an incentive to fight harder so I don't get hit" she said harshly, when asked about her deteriorating body. Of course, being in a warzone and then deliberately charging into the middle of it caused even the best warriors to get hit more anyway…

At the moment, though, the fact that she "looked like a man" (said that bitch Shepard…would have dropped her if not for potential of lethal retaliation) didn't matter. Her enemies fell before her might and she bathed in their blood. Shepard found her afterward making some rather…questionable…noises while smearing her misshapen body with skag innards. Resisting the urge to kick her attack dog out of disgust, Shepard instead yanked her to her unsteady feet before barking orders.

The flying city had only removed the top half of the old freighter—the bottom, with its powerful attached reactor and thruster remained.

"Guns first, shields second" shouted the Captain. "We need to be able to shoot anything that comes this way, not cower under a shield with no way to defend ourselves!"

Though her rather large ship could technically land on a planet with up to two times standard gravity, preparing to do so consisted of a very lengthy, boring process in which she was not killing, preparing to kill, or eating. Thus, it was unacceptable. Supplies came down by shuttle—large mass accelerator artillery in the center of the new base area and smaller point-defense guns arranged in a ring. Aware that firing up the old reactor might attract attention, she instructed her soldiers to wait until absolutely everything had been moved into place, including the shield generator.

The reactor would drive the shield, so as it activated the shield came online. Thus far, no organized Reaper incursions had occurred, though a few Reaped Skags had to be put down by perimeter guns.

As base operations hummed along, Shepard could only think smugly about the ease of which she'd accomplished the mission. And for once, that annoying petulant child had nothing to say.

_I AM VICTORIOUS!_

* * *

While Shepard celebrated her small victory, Reapers were taking over everywhere else. The corporate defense fleets each protecting their own little fiefdoms left the rest of the galaxy practically undefended. Infighting among those who had once called each other allies (Jakobs, Vladof, Hyperion) further weakened galactic readiness to tackle the threat. Hyperion's superior shields permitted them to have a chance at fighting the Reapers, while Jakobs' reliance on armor and Vladof's glass cannons both failed miserably as Reapers cut them down.

Lack of coordination among the alleged "rescue fleet" created yet more pockets of Reaper-free space, surrounded by impassable areas covered in Oculus scouts deployed from Destroyers and a new type of Reaper carrier. The quarians had cleared the largest portion—several star systems. However, unwilling to risk their position, they hunkered down. An IFF mishap almost led to the destruction of _Infinity_-class UDCS _Menacing Hatred_, after which a small incident broke out.

"We almost fired on you—be more careful next time! Fight your way through the Reaper debris field!"

"Fuck you, come to me!"

In the end, _Hatred_ departed because "those damned suited space gypsies don't know how to apologize."

* * *

A lively discussion broke out as to the next step to be taken by the Fridge survivors.

"We are going in circles."

Michael found himself the moderator of the debate—though nothing uncivil had happened, no progress was being made.

In a small voice, Moxxi cut into the current discussion of whether or not robotically-rigged technical could serve as effective escorts.

"Scooter…" (she choked up) "once told me that there's a second rocket engine in the Sanctuary hole. The ones used to lift the city were the emergency thrusters. He said firing the freighter's main engine would tear the city apart, so he decoupled it from the city and forgot about it."

"Oooooh no you don't!" injected Maya, her voice rising. "This would be the third time someone got strapped to or put in a projectile!"

"You're not dead! Therefore, continuing with this strategy would be a viable option!" exclaimed Claptrap.

"That is statistically invalid" blustered Tannis, as if Claptrap had said something far worse bordering on blasphemy. "A sample size of two…"

Whatever other mathematics came out of her mouth were covered by a pile-on in which everybody tried to speak at once.

Michael raised his hand, producing immediate silence. "We should at least see what there is to be had at the Sanctuary hole. It is a short drive from here, and the wildlife, mutated or otherwise, doesn't seem to be too active. We have nothing to lose."

* * *

The scout couldn't believe his eyes. "Sensor readings show vehicles!" he reported.

"Bullshit" replied his commander, in the most bored voice imaginable. "Skags can't drive." He went back to reading the news on his omni-tool.

"What the…" Maya jumped out of her technical. She stared in awe at the huge fortress that rose out of what used to be a hole in the ground. Bristling with gun turrets, watchtowers, searchlights and some kind of shield, it would be difficult to penetrate. That said, its existence mostly mooted the original mission since using the massive engine with a fortress on top of it would likely not work.

From the passenger seat, Moxxi reached across and blasted the horn several times. In response, every gun turret in sight rotated to point at the source of the noise. Several floodlights nearly blinded her. Within thirty seconds, the ragtag convoy found itself surrounded by heavily armed soldiers.

Seeing piles of dead, twisted wildlife outside the perimeter, Marcus noted "Well, that explains why our journey was so easy."

"What's not going to be easy is explaining to the Captain why you are here." Maya turned. She recognized that voice, but it sounded deeper than the last time she'd heard it.

She did not, however, recognize the _thing_ it emanated from. Wereskags and skrakk were pretty gross—but this took it to a whole new level. Dreadfully twisted from a slender, almost skinny form, Lilith towered over Maya by a good six inches. Arms bigger around than Torgue shotguns. Legs resembling rocket launchers in thickness. Flesh that looked as though it had been glued on and was thus falling off. Scars every few inches. All of it added up to a very rectangular, boxy appearance, save for a disgusting mass on one shoulder.

Lilith whipped something off her utility belt, jabbing it Maya's face. The needle stopped a centimeter from her left cheek.

A silky whisper came in her ear. "This is what turned me into what I am. The deadliest warrior on all of Pandora!" Lilith's hoarse voice rose to a roar as she stabbed the needle into her deformed shoulder.

"God I love this stuff!"

To Maya, it sounded as though Lilith were experiencing a perverse pleasure from whatever filled the needle.

Roughly dragged away, the entire party offered little resistance as they were pulled into the fort. Moxxi could see freshly-painted letters: Fort Kickass. _Sounds like something a five-year-old would have come up with_.


	34. Transformations

Hauled before the base commander, they knew what was coming before it happened.

"What are you doing here? And Specialist, you're this close to being shot for desertion! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Shepard stood tall over her pathetic prisoners. They'd shown up at the gate, apparently seeking to use the old engine of the freighter buried here for some ridiculous, silly purpose. Sillier than powering her personal base, anyway.

Maya said nothing, knowing full well she had to keep EDI's secret.

"Answer me, Specialist!" screeched Shepard, dragging Maya to her feet. Holding the Siren's face very close to her own, Shepard's voice dropped very low. "How did you get off my ship?"

Had Shepard been more sane and less self-absorbed, she could have easily spotted the drop-pod from the top of her fortress's highest tower. However, she preferred to have information brought to her, rather than having to actually think beyond "What do I get to butcher next?"

Trapped inside her own mind, what was left of Samantha Shepard the paragon, hero, and seasoned soldier spent most of her time passively observing the horror show her current life had become. Sometimes she tried to fight the demon, only to be slapped down. Other times, she couldn't find the energy—like someone trapped in darkness straining toward a point of light, only to have it extinguish as soon as they reached it as if it had only been an illusion.

Maybe, just maybe, she could break through someday. Do one last thing that mattered. Go out in a blaze of glory.

* * *

High in geostationary orbit, _Aspirations Toward Infinity_ maintained watch over the planet Pandora. The alleged Reaper threat there had been dismissed as "some stupid problem with that idiotic A.I." Shepard ordered EDI removed, only to be reminded that without the artificial intelligence, the ship would be mostly crippled, unable to perform rudimentary tasks. The computers aboard _Infinity_ were adapted to accommodate having such an A.I., unlike her sister ships which operated entirely free of any kind of overarching computer intelligence.

"Just make sure that blue bitch wakes me up every morning!" she snapped, after conceding the point. That EDI's avatar reminded Shepard of herself before her descent into madness and subsequent alternations to her appearance offered no help to the situation.

In order to facilitate both Shepard's demanded alarm clock and put EDI to work running the base, a constant-contact, heavily-encrypted tunnel was established between the stationary vessel and the fortress's large communications dish. The high-bandwidth connection permitted smooth transmission of EDI's avatar, in addition to quick upload/download of files when needed. Lilith once taunted Shepard for her wake-up request, before being verbally torn apart.

"Look at you" sneered the Captain. "You've gone from about a nine to a negative ten. You're a wreck, addicted to drugs, and only exist because I demand it. _Because I allow it_. Your battlefield antics are highly entertaining. That's it. Otherwise, you're a useless eyesore!"

For some reason, this statement of the obvious sent Lilith tearing out of the room trying to hide tears streaking down her scarred, ruined face.

Shepard broke into uproarious laughter. Not wanting to appear to disagree with their insane commander, the two guards by the door to her sanctum joined in, pointing and taunting at Lilith's retreating form.

Bawling her eyes out in her quarters, Lilith saw a box of JumpPaks through bleary eyes.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, kicking the container. "You ruined my life!"

Calming slightly, some sense of rationality returned. Her life had gone off track at a very precise moment—when she'd accepted assignment to that warmonger Xytler's command staff. A little laughter in slaughter wasn't a _bad_ thing, especially not on Pandora. Taking it too far, on the other hand (a la her current situation) led to a miserable existence.

She desperately wanted to talk to someone—_anyone_, but no one in this godforsaken base would do anything other than mock her.

Despairing and reaching for another JumpPak before stopping herself, she realized a potential solution was right in front of her. As Shepard's second-in-command (on paper), she had access to a holotank that could project EDI, the shipboard A.I.

"I've fallen so far I am going to talk to a computer. Wow, Lilith. Smooth."

EDI shimmered into existence, her bits flowing through the eavesdrop-proof channel between base and ship. "_Infinity _responding, this is EDI."

Realizing who she was addressing, the A.I.'s personification stood up straighter. She inclined her virtual head in a show of deference and (somewhat forced) respect. "Yes, Lilith?"

"_Help me…"_ Her pitiful cry could barely be picked up by the holotank's audio sensors.

"With what do you require assistance? Please be more specific."

"You lousy, usel—" Lilith realized the visual was set one-way, so EDI had no idea of her current physical state.

EDI prepared herself for another outburst. Both Shepard and Lilith were highly volatile, unstable, prone to explosions of vitriol (immediately forgotten upon distraction), petty, catty, and all-round generally unpleasant. Despite being an A.I. without true emotions, EDI had definitely developed a preference revolving around disliking the behavior of those two.

"I'm sorry" Lilith whispered. "I…I want…"

She wasn't sure what she wanted. She could probably overdose on JumpPaks—be found dead, ridiculed _again_ before being fed to an incinerator, and leave nothing of worth behind.

Her face hardened.

_NO. I will not be remembered as a monster. _

A second voice popped up in her head.

_Then why did Angel reveal herself to Maya? Maya, the more worthy. Maya, the magnificent. Maya, the superior Siren!_

_Shut up, you drug-addled, self-doubting, pathetic loser! I'm through with those fucking needles, and I'm through with you! BEGONE!_

EDI noticed Lilith's apparent cession of conversation. Given her posture, it was likely she stopped speaking to engage in some kind of internal debate as many organics did (an A.I. could conduct a thousand similar internal discussions in a fraction of a second without breaking dialogue). Sure enough, the misshapen Siren spoke again.

"I'm addicted. I'm sick. And I'm probably dying."

"You will have to enable detailed biological scanners on your end as I only possess a visual connection at present."

Digging through the mess that was her room (throwing aside empty JumpPaks with looks of scorn), Lilith managed to find her JumpLine—an extraordinarily sophisticated medical monitoring device that was required to be worn by all JumpPack users. At least in theory. In reality, no one used them. They existed to prevent overdoses, to monitor vital signs, and to warn users of any impending unpleasant side-effects that might require medical intervention. As a result of this function, the JumpLine could pretty much tell if a wearer had a single cancer cell in their body—or detect the presence of halitosis.

The wrist-mounted device started up. To Lilith's annoyance, a synthesized version of Shepard's voice emanated from it. "Would you like to set your current status as a baseline?"

"The hell I do!" hissed the Siren. "Just get detailed medical readings!"

Pairing the JumpLine with the holotank, data about Lilith's current condition flowed to EDI. The device chirped again. "You have _ten_ severe medical issues that must be addressed immediately before using more JumpPaks or returning to combat duties."

For delivering such bad news, the voice remained annoyingly cheerful—though it was not lost on Lilith that she'd not heard Shepard speak in this tone for…almost a year? Shepard was forever screaming, yelling, tantrum-ing and being a rather surly person. This "Shepard" was much more upbeat.

_Like the old Sam. And the old me…_

EDI interrupted Lilith's thoughts.

"Your body is in extremely poor condition. Your heart is enlarged, your skin is severely damaged, many bones possess precancerous growths, your muscles are extremely unbalanced, there are several untreated internal injuries, the cartilage in your joints has hardened, you are experiencing multiple chemical imbalances, your digestive tract is no longer absorbing nutrients properly, and the walls of blood vessels in your eyes are extremely fragile."

Laughing weakly, Lilith countered. "That's nine. The JumpLine said ten. Can't you count?"

"The JumpLine is also reporting halitosis as a 'severe medical issue.' I do not agree with that assessment" concluded EDI.

"What's one more way for me to be hideous and ugly?" sighed Lilith. "Is there any way to fix all this?"

In microseconds, EDI analyzed all the knowledge loaded into her databanks about Sirens before responding to the question. Referencing research conducted by Liara T'Soni and cross-checking against additional information from Patricia Tannis, she reached a conclusion. "It appears extensive treatment with Eridium injections would reverse most, if not all, the symptoms you currently possess. However, there is a high risk of becoming chemically dependent on the substance."

Lilith's face twisted into a smile. "Fuck you too universe, fuck you."

"This treatment would enable you to resume living as you did before. I fail to see why you should be angry at this news." EDI's face took on a quizzical look.

"Trading one addiction for another" came the sardonic reply. "Sure, I'm free of JumpPaks, but now I have to keep shooting up Eridium instead."

"I see. So you do not wish merely to rid yourself of your current crop of maladies, but you also wish to be free of dependence on any chemical substance no matter how beneficial its effects."

"Exactly." Even though she hadn't gotten the news she wanted, having the conversation lifted Lilith's sagging spirits. "And what happens if I stop taking Eridium after I'm better? Do I revert back to being a monster? Die? Both?"

More near-instant research. "I am afraid I do not possess enough data to suggest any conclusions in this area. The only known Siren to die of Eridium withdrawal became far more dependent upon it than you would be, and I hesitate to extrapolate from a sample size of one."

"What can you tell me about why Maya is here?"

"She believed she had to return to Pandora. No further details were made available."

"Now, how do I talk to Maya without Shepard noticing?"

* * *

The refugees from the Fridge were tossed into dark, damp holding cells. Fed gruel come mealtime, the eight crowded by their cell doors in an attempt to have a conversation. Their lighthearted banter came to a screeching halt upon seeing the deformed shape in the light at the end of the hallway.

"Shhh!" hissed Moxxi. "The bitch is back!"

"I heard that" cooed the twisted Siren. Taking Moxxi's face in her hands, she whispered "You're going to regret that later…"

Pulling away from Moxxi's cell, Lilith spoke more loudly. "But I'm not here for Balloon-Boobs. She's for later. Oh no, she's not going to be nearly as much fun."

Stopping outside Maya's cell, Lilith enabled active restraints, immobilizing Maya. Never mind the system's use was excruciatingly painful. Lilith forced a laugh.

_Must play the part. Must play the part!_

Snapping energy binders onto the screaming Siren, Lilith marched the blue-haired woman in front of her, the barrel of a massive shotgun buried in her back.

Bored while flipping through the many video feeds that showed her everything throughout her base, Shepard paused on the one in the dungeons.

Snorting to herself, she chuckled watching Lilith threaten Moxxi and frog-march Maya from her cell. She'd grinned when the application for prisoner release came in from Lilith. The repulsive Siren wanted some "personal time" with one of the detainees. Shepard immediately approved it—Lilith's spine must have grown back. The only condition? Whatever Lilith did to (or with) Maya had to be recorded so she could watch it later.

Seeing Lilith head back through the door, she turned to other tasks. Someone had left gum in the water fountain again, and she was going to find out who did it. Then feed them to giant skags.

* * *

"You monster" hissed Maya. "You disgusting, perverted, drug-addicted bitch!"

In response, the shotgun nudged harder into the base of Maya's spine.

"Why don't you just kill me now, and spare me whatever twisted tortures you have in mind?"

They'd arrived at Lilith's quarters.

Leaning forward, Lilith whispered silkily into Maya's ear: "Because, _darling_, that would be no fun."

She pushed the prisoner into her room.

_This is where I die._

Expecting to see medieval torture machines, electric spikes, or a slag pool at the very least, her eyes landed on…a couch. With a coffee table, and holoprojector playing some trashy show. Two places were set at the table near the kitchen.

_Well, if she's going to wine and dine me before breaking me, I guess it's not all bad_.

The door slammed shut.

"Let's get this over with" sighed Maya.

EDI appeared in the holotank near the couch.

"Lilith, the room is secure. You will not be disturbed or recorded."

Maya had no way of expecting what happened next.

Clank. Her restraints dropped to the floor.

"Catch." She barely caught the massive shotgun that had been bruising her for the past five minutes.

"There. You're armed, I'm not. We're locked in. You could kill me and walk away. Will you hear me out?"

"What could there possibly be to discuss?" wondered Maya aloud. "Let's see, you're a gigantic bitch, Shepard's little pet skag, and you're ugly!" She took particular relish in the last part.

EDI interrupted before Lilith could defend herself. "I believe the phrase often used among organics is 'Ugly on the outside, beautiful on the inside.'"

"Awww" simpered Maya. "You've gotten the little computer to say nice things about you!"

"For once in your life" spat Lilith through clenched teeth, "don't be like me and listen to someone for a change!"

EDI played back her entire conversation with Lilith. Maya's triumphant grin faded, changing to confusion, recognition, and finally shame.

Placing a hand on Lilith's ruined cheek, Maya's eyes dropped. "I'm the bitch… I gave Krieg a chance. I should've given you one."

She found herself hugging the hideous Siren, who cried into her shoulder.

When they pulled apart, Maya realized she'd dropped her gun. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lilith move—she had the gun! Looking down, Maya realized the grip end still hovered in front of her, as the other Siren was holding the weapon. And all four barrels of the yellow-and-black death-dealer were pointed square into Lilith's chest.

Barely above a whisper, Maya heard the other woman's words. "If you pulled that trigger right now, I'd happily accept my end, knowing I deserve every last pellet."

Yanking the gun away, Maya backhanded Lilith for all she was worth. Lilith cowered, expecting a well-earned stream of verbal abuse like she was used to getting from Shepard.

"Get ahold of yourself, woman! You're a _Siren!_ A _Vault Hunter!_ Not some petty schoolyard bully or jerk jockette! Maybe Shepard's a lost cause, but you're not! Who killed all those people because they were 'following orders?' Shepard! Who turned this whole mess into a sad, psychotic little circus? Shepard and Xytler! Not! You!"

"I followed them" she replied meekly. "I didn't have the courage to say no. I was too obsessed with the thrill of the fight."

"You did go along, but you're different now." Maya radiated a subtle intensity—one that gave her words spoken at a low volume more power than shouting would have. "You've _changed_. You woke up, and you want to escape the nightmare. _That's what makes a person worthy of redemption. They realize they've done horrible things, but they want to make it right. They want to undo some of their evil._"

Lilith perked up. Hesitantly, she asked the question she'd created this whole setup for. "What were you hoping to do with Sanctuary's engine?"

Returning to a businesslike demeanor, Maya's responses were quick and concise. "We need to get to a big Vault at the north pole. We were investigating whether we could use the engine to fly there."

A smile crossed the other Siren's face. "Yeah, Shepard might have a problem with that. The reactor that would power the engine runs this base."

Maya quickly explained Patricia Tannis' theory combined with the words of the Psycho Rakkman.

"That…that won't work" stuttered Lilith. "You're missing something."

"Damn! Did we forget to carry the one?"

For the first time in a long while, Lilith had a genuine, non-schadenfreude laugh.

"No! You just need a large power source to kick start the reaction that would open the Vault."

"Oh." Maya's face showed relief that the theory wasn't completely wrong. "Where do we get a power source that big?"

EDI rejoined the conversation. "I think I may have an answer."


	35. Infinite Fall

Shepard was furious. She'd hoped for either a delightfully gory torture video or perhaps some (forced) girl-on-girl action. She'd gotten neither—and calls to Lilith's quarters went unanswered. At first, she told herself it was because Lilith wasn't "done yet," but as an hour stretched into several, she became suspicious.

A commotion in the Eridium storage facility caught her eye. A guard reported a band of Psychos had broken in and were smashing the valuable Eridium stacks, so she sent in some of what remained of Thunder Squad.

In theory, her mission was to remove the Reaper influence from Pandora, but after each passing day, she cared less and less. The fleet she came in with had the same outlook as Shepard and thus forged an unspoken co-existence with the Reapers, which originated from the fact that formerly-super weapons were no longer working as well as they used to. However, the Reapers were not strong enough to evict the invading force either.

Thus, Shepard remained happy to sit in her little castle, not fighting and not losing. But not winning.

* * *

Materializing in a large cargo bay, Lilith, Maya, and the rest hoped not to have too much of a fight on their hands. They needn't have worried—EDI cleared a path by simulating a massive electrical problem which was prone to overloading, killing everyone in the corridor. Faced with possible death by electrocution, even the dumbest of Shepard's replacement crew stayed out of the way. No one noticed that the cleared path led directly to the battle bridge buried deep in the heart of the ship.

"Once the connection between myself and the base is severed" began EDI, "Shepard will become aware that _Infinity_ is no longer under her control."

"So we keep that connection going as long as we can" replied Moxxi, as if this was an obvious fact.

"I do not believe we have been introduced" replied EDI. Continuing quickly, she went on "However, there are more important items on the agenda than organic pleasantries. The link only has approximately two kilometers of extra length before it will fade to nothing. Thus, we won't get far before the base is alerted."

"What about blowing up the base, then heading for the north pole?" asked Marcus.

His answer came in stereo as both Sirens, barely audible but with a conviction that could melt the polar caps, replied: "No."

He broke out into a belly laugh. "Ahahahahah. Hahahaha." Regaining composure, Marcus turned back to the two women. "But seriously, that little bitch has caused almost all the trouble we're having. Why should we let her live?"

"I'm not ready to give up on her yet" came the restrained reply, as if Lilith were ready to tear Marcus limb-from-limb for the suggestion. "Maya allowed my transformation" (she choked up), "Who are we to deny Shepard the opportunity?"

"Alert: Hostiles have taken notice of unauthorized presence in the battle bridge. Sealing all access points and closing blast doors." EDI's avatar showed as close to panic as an A.I. could. "If any of them alert Shepard, this whole plan will be jeopardized."

Outside, a rough-and-ready squad of batarians, some of the last of their species, attached a breaching charge to the door. Their hails had gone unanswered (EDI helpfully refused to transmit, without telling anybody), so in in the name of Shepard they were going to force their way in.

"The enemy soldiers have attached a breaching charge to the door! Stand back!" warned the A.I.

PFOOOOM.

A column of liquid metal shot inward as the explosive did its job. Cutting through a control console, the blast stopped short of incinerating the captain's chair. Just barely.

"We have no weapons" whispered Lilith. "How are we supposed to…"

"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"

A massive pink-and-purple shockwave cascaded through the batarian soldiers, throwing them all from their feet.

"Who the hell is that?" demanded Maya.

Not noticing the cowering Sirens and the rest of their party, Jack spoke into her communicator. "You okay down there, Brick?"

"RAAAAAAAGH!"

Splat.

A drop of something landed in Maya's hair, followed by a headless body collapsing to the deck. Two more shockwaves and the remaining batarians were tossed like ragdolls.

Another voice joined the melee. "Scoped and dropped!" Several enemies on the ground from the shockwave ceased moving at all.

"We're givin' 'em hell down here!" came the voice in Jack's earpiece. "Shepard hasn't made an appearance yet, but most of her lackeys are actually kinda pathetic."

"You let the psychos loose into the Eridium warehouse? Badass!"

"You bet! Iron Ab Slabs rule!"

"We'll see about that." Jack loved a good old-fashioned bodycount competition, but always remembered that channeling the rage left her dangerously close to becoming Shepard. That thought kept her from tipping over the edge—she would _never_ become the monster her old commander had morphed into. _Too much like Cerberus_ she spat in a voice only her head could hear.

"Alright you sissies, c'mon out!"

Slowly, the dazed party stood.

Seeing Lilith, Jack turned and made ready to throw another shockwave. "You."

"Wait, stop!" Maya placed herself between the deformed woman and Jack. "She's with us!"

EDI reappeared. "I did warn you, Jack, that the replacement bridge crew included an unexpected member."

"You could've told me who" came the reply, though all could tell the anger was mostly for show. "You owe me for that one!"

"We will settle debts on the chessboard later. Right now, we have a battle to win."

"Damn straight we do" came the flanging voice of what Maya recognized to be the turian, Garrus.

"Now what?" asked Moxxi.

"We take this ship, and smash it into the Vault" chimed in Tannis. "EDI slipped me information that completes my theory. I was right, as usual."

"Why are we smashing warships into vaults?" asked Marcus. "This thing's worth a fortune. If we stole it…"

"We've already stolen it" pointed out Michael. "But we aren't going to use it for profit. We're going to try to give this galaxy another chance."

"Nice try, you weak little spiderlings" cackled Shepard from her control room. Though her forces were losing on all fronts, she held the trump card: molecular-disintegration shells intended to be deployed against Reapers now loaded in the base's central Massive Velocity Repeater (MAVOR) artillery cannon. "You take my ship from me, I'll take _everything_ from you!"

For maximum symbolic value, she would wait until just before her traitorous crew and their Vault Hunter friends thought they'd get away, then take down _Infinity_ with a well-placed shot which would disintegrate its engines. Then, a second piece of rigged ordinance would detonate and wipe the base off the face of the planet. She didn't care about dying—she just wanted these annoying little insects swatted.

Aboard _Infinity_, all not loyal to Shepard gathered inside the battle bridge. EDI's ability to run the ship single-handedly proved quite useful as in order to prevent resistance, all occupied areas of the vessel were vented to space before the ship began to accelerate toward the north pole.

"Oh no you don't" sneered Shepard. Pushing a button on the console in front of her, she initiated a reboot of all EDI's core systems, causing the A.I. to stop responding while her systems re-initialized.

EDI's hologram disappeared from the bridge.

"Where'd the blue lady go?" demanded Jack.

Frantically entering commands into a workstation, Tannis replied "The A.I. Core isn't responding! Looks like someone spiked a maintenance request into the ship right before we broke the communication line with the base!"

Without EDI to guide it, the ship's trajectory veered. "We're off target" intoned Maya. "We're also gaining way too much speed!"

* * *

"That's right, run cowards, run!" Hovering a victorious fist over the controls for MAVOR, Shepard suddenly felt herself seize up.

_Oh no you don't, you murderous warmongering bitch. I may be trapped in here, but you can't get rid of me!_

Frozen for only a moment, her fist slammed down on the panel. She smiled as she felt the rumble meaning the artillery had fired, only to look down to see that the shell would miss its target by many kilometers.

_That's right, you missed. They'll escape. Whatever they're doing, I hope it means the end of you! I'd rather die than live like this!_

_You'll get your wish, little child_.

Pulling a detonator out of her pocket, she laughed maniacally before slamming a thumb down.

Nothing happened.

Click. Click.

"What the fuck?"

The door to her private room exploded inward.

"Looking for this?" bellowed Brick, hurling something large and black at Shepard before she could react.

Her frame crumpled under the weight of a massive artillery shell. It landed crosswise on her, pinning Shepard from mid-chest on down.

"Traitors! Thralls! You're all indoctrinated!" she shrieked.

"No" replied the gigantic man. "_You_ are indoctrinated. Indoctrinated by the will of that warmonger Xytler. Indoctrinated by a mad desire to kill without reason, fight without cause, and create conflict without purpose."

For a split second, something changed in Shepard's eyes. Brick almost thought he'd imagined it, but he saw something. A pleading, plaintive look—quickly replaced by insanity.

"You can stay here" proclaimed Brick, slamming his huge fists down on the inert shell, crushing Shepard even more. "We'll decide what to do with you later."

Leaving the shouting, frothing, mad woman behind, Brick returned to the general melee outside.

* * *

_Aspirations Toward Infinity_ screamed through the atmosphere, a six-kilometer box pounding its way downward toward Pandora's north pole. Though the ship's mass had been lowered via its eezo core, its exposed surface against the air of Pandora's upper atmosphere was not altered. Alarms wailed, but without EDI, the systems failed to respond. A red glow surrounded the outer hull as air surrounding the ship began to ignite.

A dull roar filled the background, as the crew had many meters of plating and armor between themselves and outside. Jack bellowed "Does anyone know how to fly this crate, or are we all gonna die?"

"It's not a C-Sec patrol shuttle, but I can try" replied Garrus, strapping himself into the pilot's seat.

"Can you fly a dreadnaught in an atmosphere?" wondered Moxxi. "Is that even physically possible?"

"Under the circumstances, what is considered possible is irrelevant" noted Michael. "I'd suggest securing a seat." He buckled himself in as he spoke.

"Reverse the engines. Open anything that can offer air resistance to slow us down."

The din filling the battle bridge was interrupted by EDI. "System reboot complete. Beginning analysis of ship systems…this ship was not built for atmospheric drag racing! You are in direct violation of several regulations. I will be forced to…"

"Shut up, EDI!"

Lilith. Not hostile—just annoyed. "We're on our way to the pole, but we're going to burn before we get there."

"Burn? Burn?" said Maya incredulously. "Don't we have some kind of fancy armor designed to _prevent_ us from burning, melting or lighting on fire?"

"I have already activated the Trinity armor and set it to heat absorption. The temperature of the outer hull has stabilized and is beginning to fall."

"There's EDI, two steps ahead!" teased Garrus. "Twenty minutes to deceleration!"

"And exactly how do we accomplish that?" replied Jack with a pout.

"You don't."

The resoluteness of Lilith's raspy voice surprised everybody.

"We're all going to die. We're all going to die!" For being an amoral arms dealer who pretended nothing he saw shocked him, Marcus had become quite flustered. Several sets of eyes, including his, bugged open as comprehension dawned.

"You don't, because _I will_. When this ship slows down, you get to the escape pods. You leave. And you do not look back." She turned away.

Maya knew what that meant, but she also realized Lilith would not change her mind. Moxxi moved as if to start arguing, but Maya shushed her.

"Lilith's made her choice. She wanted to bring a little light back to the world, and this is how she's chosen to do it."

Tannis stepped forward. "I must relay this information quickly, as we must leave shortly. The Order of the Bringers of Life, my own work, and Liara T'Soni's research leave significant doubt regarding how exactly this process works, despite its simplicity. I believe it operates on a form of…"

"Would you just get to the important part?" Jack hated when scientists became long-winded. It was mostly reflexive, as much of her experience with talkative lab coats involved them meticulously justifying whatever cruel experiment they were going to perform next by dictating their thoughts into a recording rod or omni-tool.

"Crash the ship into the pole. You must activate your Phasewalk at impact. The Eridium needs to be liquid to start the process, but cracking it with weapons would create too many firebreaks in the material for the chain reaction to begin."

"And crashing a ship into it won't?" replied a dubious Marcus. "I think that's going to cause plenty of cracks!"

"All I have is a best guess" snapped Tannis, clearly flustered that a mere mortal dared question her scientific prowess.

"So heat the hull" interjected Garrus. "I heard you—disabling armor now!"

"If you do that, the escape pod hatches will burn away. Therefore, we must leave now!" The first urgency anyone had ever heard crept into Michael Mamaril's usually-unflappable voice.

"I recommend using the rearmost escape modules" lectured EDI, "as they are farthest away from the heat wave formed around the ship's bow. They will be struck by the vessel's wake, but less likely to experience excessive temperatures."

"Well Lilith, you better take the pilot's chair now" started Garrus. He removed himself from the seat and offered it to the twisted Siren.

"I guess this is goodbye" she replied. "Just, do me a favor, okay? If any kids want to draw a picture of me after…after I'm gone, tell them to use the old Lilith… Please don't remember me like this."

More than one person struggled to maintain composure. Maya snapped a smart salute, which was slowly echoed around the remaining members of the impromptu bridge crew.

"The escape hatches are reaching critical heat levels!" warned EDI. _"You must leave, now!"_

"But what about EDI?" stammered Jack, usually the absolute last to show any kind of sympathy, pity, or similar emotion. "What will happen to…to her?" She'd almost said "it."

"Unless you wish to join Lilith and myself in finding out what happens after being vaporized, I suggest you depart. You're welcome to stay, of course."

She paused.

"That was a joke."

Led by Garrus, the entire party minus Lilith scampered off the bridge, heading back to the engine module where several large escape pods could be found.

* * *

"The hull is reaching temperatures suggested by Patricia Tannis to be enough to liquefy Eridium and begin the reaction."

Lilith could have sworn she'd heard emotional inflection in EDI's synthesized voice before the rest of the crew left. Now she was all business.

"The first escape pod has launched. It has been caught in the trailing wake, but is otherwise undamaged. The second escape pod has launched. It has spun wildly on its x-axis and is clear of the ship's wake. The final escape pod has launched. Its launch door failed to operate correctly due to heat, and it was pulled into the side of the ship. It is likely the pod was destroyed. I am sorry."

_Grieve now, you weak little thing. You've already started to fail, and you're not even dead yet!_

_But that's the difference. That's why I'm not you—because I can grieve. Because I can give a shit about someone who isn't me. That's what makes me better. THAT is what makes me strong. Not kill counts, bloodlust, or medals. It's not about rewards or recognition, it's about the people next to you. It's about willingly, gratefully giving everything so someone else may have a chance to build something better._

Fading screams of rage echoed in Lilith's head, and the vicious voice spoke no more.

Her head finally clear, Lilith concentrated on keeping the bouncing, jerking ship on course for the north pole.

"The hull is starting to buckle and warp. The front of the ship has begun to boil away."

Breathing heavily, Lilith demanded to know how much time remained.

"You must hold this course for another two minutes."

"That's going to be the longest two minutes of my life…"

_Flash._

_A printed ad for transport to Pandora. "Action! Excitement! Adventure! Treasure! Find it all here!" superimposed over images of Crimson Lance in their dress uniforms on one side, battle armor on the other._

_Flash._

_Playing with Brick, many years ago when they were still children. His dog, always slobbering all over Lilith's hair._

_Flash._

_Arriving on Pandora in search of another Siren. Seeing that there were other Vault Hunters for the first time._

_Flash._

_Roland tosses out his Scorpio. Mordecai is down. The Scorpio brings him back up as Brick slams his fists into a Badass Psycho. _

_Flash._

_The slaughter at New Haven. Wilhelm. An utter rout._

_Flash._

_New Vault Hunters. Seeing them take down the Eridian Warrior and Handsome Jack, standing tall over the ruined corpses of a megalomaniac and his monster._

She didn't hear EDI's countdown from ten. The front of the ship had already slammed into the Vault. Made from pure Eridium, the structure began to twist, melt, fuse and collapse as the incredible weight of a dreadnaught crashed into it. A ripple effect, as the impact transmitted back along the three kilometers of main gun and the armor covering them. Groans, shakes and a sudden feeling of floating as everything between the engine section and front compressed. Liquid Eridium began to flow around the ship as it buried itself in a combination of the alien element and freshly-melted water.

Suddenly, EDI's voice jolted Lilith. "Phase! _NOW!_"

As she began to depart her normal plane of existence, she heard five last words from the A.I. "It has been an honor."

The ship collapsed around her, but she no longer felt it. The massive reactors detonated as planned, but no burning sensation took to her skin. A support beam stabbed through where her head had been moments before, shredding the headrest. The console suddenly rushed toward the chair with force that would have gutted her, had she been sitting there. The entire battle bridge burst into pink flames and a torrent of Eridium swept through.

She felt herself coming back.

_This is the end. _

She began to cry as she realized she'd die still physically scarred by acts of wanton evil, selfishness, and glory-hounding.

In despair, she looked to the shoulder where she'd jabbed hundreds of JumpPaks, only to see nothing. No mound of scar tissue, no oozing pus, no drops from leftover Paks. Just smooth, pale skin on a shoulder of normal size. No mound of misshapen muscle.

She looked down, seeing her feet instead of trunk-like legs. She saw the curves of her breasts and hips, no longer mutated by stimulant abuse. Her Siren tattoos glowed a blinding white. In that one single beautiful moment, Lilith knew she had accomplished her goal. Smiling serenely, the most powerful Siren in the galaxy was wiped gently from existence.


	36. Revenant Phoenix

Shepard yelled and screamed the best she could given her injuries. No one came for her, not her underlings, not her enemies. All feeling in her lower body had gone—she suspected her internal organs had become so much paste held together in a fleshy tube.

"You cowards! You fucking dirty cowards! You've abandoned your captain, this is treason, you will all die!"

_Listen to yourself._

She'd never heard such smugness and strength from the "little girl."

_It's all falling apart. Your mission has failed. The Reapers are still here, and you sit on the toilet taking a crap instead of getting out there, fighting tooth-and-nail for the people you care about. Oh, that's right—you don't care about anyone, and no one cares about you. Push everyone away, and don't be surprised if you end up standing by yourself_.

For once, the dominant personality had no answer.

_Me, me, me. You didn't pull yourself up after the Collector base exploded. You didn't stop Saren solo. You may be the big gun on the dreadnaught, but without engines, armor, shields, a crew—you are nothing._

The only response came in the form of incoherent rage.

_See? You're all alone. No one to save you. No one to pull your ass out of the fire._

A blinding pain took her. Both halves agreed on this—let it end.

_Suddenly, she stood in some kind of arena. It wasn't a logically-constructed one—its edges led off into nothingness. Before Sam could even react, she found herself flat on her back being straddled by a terrifying creature. Her own head, but a grotesque, twisted body almost as ugly as JumpPak-addicted Lilith had been. A thin sword appeared from nowhere and the sadistic woman (was it a woman?) playfully nicked her throat._

"_Watching you bleed out is gonna be FUUUUUNNNN" taunted her assailant. "I'm gonna cut out your lungs and show them to you. Then you're going to eat your own uterus." A massive blade appeared in the creature's other hand. Gleefully, the hideous apparition drove the oversized weapon into her stomach over and over. The pain! The all-consuming…wait, what? Her grisly opponent sliced back and forth, singing some sick song about hard-boiled ovaries, but the pain faded. She expected more agony, but it simply failed to appear. No blood spilled from her body, despite continuous attempts to mutilate and violate it._

_Bracing her arms behind her back, Sam pushed up, passing straight through her foe, who still swung a giant sword while singing about curdled-brain salad._

"_Aha. You can't hurt me!"_

"_Yes I can! You are a disgrace! A failure! You got beaten by a bunch of wretched Vault Hunters and a has-been Siren so ugly people would pay her to stay away! You—"_

_The remainder of whatever her adversary had to say faded into the background, like some kind of annoying static on an analog signal._

_Reaching out, her fingers closed on an arm busy trying to cut through her left breast. Gaining confidence, she twisted the arm at an angle no limb should bend, and grinned in satisfaction when she heard something crack._

"_I'll keep that, thank you" she scolded the gargoyle-with-her-head, smacking the right arm away from continuing its now-useless twin's work._

_Closing her right hand around the vile thing's throat, she felt her fingers come into contact with something solid. More useless attacks from legs and right arm. They passed right through. She could hurt it, but it could no longer hurt her._

_Pushing the advantage, she flexed powerful muscles built from years of hard training (and a few cybernetic implants—okay, more than a few), planting her feet on the ground while lifting with her arm._

"_So light" she taunted. "Is this all there is to you? Lots of hot air and empty threats?"_

_Her assailant-turned-victim tried to respond, but could only gurgle as Samantha Shepard tightened her grip on the abomination that had destroyed her life._

"_Die now, you wretched, pitiful thing. Go back to the shadow, go back to the hell where you came from!"_

_The monstrosity's gurgling only increased, as it kicked and struggled to break free of an unyielding fist._

_Her fist closed even further. Sam felt her tormenter's flesh giving under her righteous retribution. When the noises stopped, she dropped the thing, which landed with a wet thud._

_WHOOOOSH._

"_Let me finish that for you, killer."_

_Lilith! Except, not the deformed horror that stalked battlefields, pleasured herself with the blood of her enemies, and abused drugs. Instead, the radiant, strong, woman she'd first met upon arriving in this galaxy stood before her. _

"_RAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!"_

_Splat. A wet-sounding thud as Lilith's fist powered through the downed rival's head._

_Embracing the headless body, Lilith turned to Sam as it disappeared, seemingly into her._

"_This little bitch will never trouble you again. If you waste this chance, I swear, I'm going to come down from whatever this afterlife is and kill you dead!" Laughing merrily like in the old days when not an hour went by without one threatening terrific bodily harm on the other for some trivial reason (and meaning none of it), Lilith vanished._

"_No, don't go…please…"_

_Her hand stretched out toward empty air._

_Another voice. No face, but she knew this one. No requests for anything crazy like "Open a Vault!" this time, though._

"_Lilith will always be with you. Every day you live, every day you play the part you were meant to honors her memory. As long as you remain faithful to yourself and others, she will never die."_

HUUUUUAAAA!

Her eyes snapped open. She took in huge lungfuls of air as she snapped upright into a sitting position.

"What? Wha…"

She was in a bed of some kind. Standing around her were almost two dozen familiar, smiling faces. Wrex, Garrus, Kasumi, Grunt. Legion, Samara, Zaeed, Mordin, Ashley. Jack, Jacob, James. Maya, Axton, Brick, Gaige, Moxxi, Marcus. Michael, Tannis, Zed. Tali turned toward her Captain.

"Oh Captain, my Captain!"

She unsealed her mask. Standing at an angle that only Sam could see, the quarian's face shone with emotion under the bright hospital lights. After a few seconds, Tali snapped her helmet back in place before saluting. Everyone else repeated the gesture, holding as if no one wanted to be the first to drop their salute.

"At ease. Seriously." Sam chuckled. "We don't need people getting gorilla arm here!"

A huge vessel passed slowly by the window.

"That's your new ship out there" intoned the gravelly voice of Zaeed. "Reckon we'll all be out there in…" He hesitated as if about to give up some piece of information, but then, thinking better of himself, he continued "…her kicking ass once you're back on your feet!"

"You named her while I was out, didn't you?" she smirked.

"Well, a ship can't go unnamed for eight months!" exclaimed Garrus. "That's just bad luck!"

"Eight months" deadpanned Sam. "I was out for eight months."

"Well, unless you're hoping to top your old record…" joshed the turian.

"We named her _Revenant Phoenix_" added Tali, practically bouncing with excitement. "About two months ago, the Trans-Galactic Republic's reinforcements finally showed up. After they saw what we'd been through, what we'd accomplished, what we'd done, they were more than happy to share their technology with us. All of it."

"Can I wake up to a perfect batch of eggs every morning? That is the most important part!"

"Hey, you want eggs, I got you covered!" chimed in James. "I've even been teaching Rupert how to make eggs that taste more like food and less like chicken butt."

Smattered laughter arose from this line.

"I take it we won" said Shepard slowly. "Unless this is the afterlife…"

"Dude, the afterlife is probably really boring. Nobody wants to go there. You gotta get better so we can see if those new hips of yours can shake it up!" Jack began doing small dance moves within the confines of available space until she bumped into Kasumi.

"Yeah, we won." Maya sounded resigned, as if beating an entire race of sentient robotic starships wasn't enough for her. "We won because Lilith sacrificed herself to unleash the power of the Prime Vault."

"It set off a giant nova" continued Miranda. She inclined her head at Patricia Tannis. "Not even Miss Brainiac over there knows exactly what happened. At any rate, a huge white sphere expanded outward from Pandora, disintegrating every Reaper in its path all the way back to where _we_ came from, and then some. Whatever it was, it even cleaned the debris—there's not a single piece of Reaper anywhere. Not even in labs where they were being studied! It all just vanished!"

"We did find something weird though, when we got to you" said Brick.

"What was left of you, anyway" added Gaige. "After Mr. Piledriver had to show how strong he was crushing you with that shell and all."

"Anyway" continued the mountain of muscle, drowning out the hyperactive late-teen, "we found this fleshy sack of, I don't even know what. It was black, wrinkled, looked like a giant raisin right next to where you were laying. Smelled to high heaven, too."

Samara stepped forward. "It tried to suffocate Maya. She subdued it—it seemed to have no ability to communicate."

"After analyzing it" (Tannis still couldn't keep her superiority from showing), "I came to the conclusion that it was dangerous."

A giggling Tali finished the story. "We incinerated it in the exhaust from _Revenant Phoenix_'s engines."


	37. Epilogue

_The activation of some kind of lost Eridian technology on Pandora transformed the known universe for everybody—Citadel, Republic, and the inhabitants of impoverished G-3._

_Dubbed the "Cosmic Cleansing Sphere," brilliant scientists like Patricia Tannis would spend the rest of their careers trying to make sense of it. The subject of many papers, conferences, and heated extranet arguments, its mechanics and design would remain a mystery._

_Its effects were wide-ranging, and generally regarded as changing things for the better. Of course, what directly resulted from it versus items of coincidence also brought much discussion._

_The apparently-omniscient Cluster Councils and Cluster Union sent a short letter of congratulations to the various governments involved in ending the Reaper threat and surviving the subsequent trials imposed by rapid technological/political change. The Council and Union would not be heard from again in any currently-living person's lifetime. _

_After the mop-up, a good number of people began reporting strange feelings of tightness in the chest. Doctors watched in horror as blood-pumping organs calcified, seized and ceased to function. Attempts to replace hardened hearts with artificial ones met with abject failure. In a curious turn, the vast majority of these were individuals brought into the fold when one Maximilian Xytler became Fleet Commander under the aegis of the United Defense Command._

_Just as the populace turned on the Citadel Council when it refused to acknowledge the benefits of working with the Republic against the Reapers, citizens again became outraged after learning of Lilith Cashlin's sacrifice being the trigger for the galaxy-bending cataclysm. Through elections, protests, and the occasional riot, the United Defense Command came crashing down. Every attempt by the UDC to maintain its grip on power fell apart, often in humorous, viciously karmic ways._

_Maximilian Xytler's fall outpaced his rise. Officially a persona non-grata, he was last seen doing odd jobs at an out-of-the-way freighter stop in the Terminus Systems. Frequents of that station told stories of the "mad janitor" whose dreams were haunted by Sirens, Reapers, and horrors no one else had ever seen._

_Tali'Zorah vas Rannoch leveraged her work during the Reaper War in a new career revolving around making the best use of the flood of advanced technology resulting from officially opening trade with both the Trans-Galactic Republic and G-3. She worked closely with Miranda Lawson to turn inventions from the twisted labs of organizations such as the former Cerberus into positive forces when possible, otherwise formulating innovative defenses against those who would wield such devices._

_Cerberus itself withered on the vine. Without support from wealthy donors, powerful politicians, or extra-galactic forces, it became little more than the occasional protest or angry letter-writing campaign. For the most part, it had no influence on the future, though it did attempt to enter the tech smuggling business. It was not successful._

_Garrus Vakarian became a noted advocate for investigations into C-Sec misconduct. He earned many enemies, but won even more plaudits for exposing a vast underbelly of graft that accompanied trade in cutting-edge equipment imported from outside the Council's jurisdiction. Personally leading squads of crack agents, he oversaw the utter decimation of Cerberus' attempt to illegally import superlaser technology._

_The mega-corporations who passed for government in the G-3 galaxy found themselves strapped for cash after pouring most of their resources into building ships to defend their territories. Experiencing no economies of scale due to mostly-selfish hoarding of vessels, the stock valuations of every company save two crashed over the course of a few months since battleships with no foes to fight carried little value. A massive raw-materials glut pushed Hyperion, Vladof, and Jakobs into the position many of those living on their worlds were forced to endure—begging someone, anyone, to buy their unwanted items (in this case, all their accumulated battle gear). Showing not all companies came off worse, new weapons bearing taglines such as "F-CKING ACID EXPLOSIONS!" and "Touch From Afar…By Exploding!" appeared on the market._

_Such weapons became mainstays in the new Pandoran Protection League, a government established first on Pandora, but that ultimately expanded to cover a significant portion of G-3._

_Anna Erickson served proudly in the newly-created PPL Navy for twenty years. Kim Harrison at long last received command…of a patrol frigate._

_One of the few programs begun under the United Defense Command deemed worthy of retaining, KOMBT continued to nurture the potential of biotics from across the Citadel's space. Jack and Brick neither confirmed nor denied rumors of them becoming involved with each other as a result of their joint effort running the school._

_A reformulated Citadel Council counting Adrien Victus and Adam Grayson as members steered the economic and social recovery of their jurisdiction from the mini-dark-age of the Reaper War._

_Former Councilor Anderson retired to a quiet life on the Citadel._

_Maya, Athena, Axton, Mordecai, and the "Sanctuary Survivors" returned to their homeworld with an eye on rebuilding efforts._

_Gaige remained in Citadel space ("Too much cool!"), though casual inter-galactic travel became a consequence of the Republic's trade routes into G-3 and G-6. Therefore, visits with her fellow former Vault Hunters were frequent._

_Samantha Shepard regained her status as a paragon extraordinaire. As part of the reformed Inter-Spec, she roamed the three galaxies righting wrongs, solving problems, and finding credits in couches._


	38. Postscript (Optional)

Obviously, if you read this before the rest of the story, potentially full of spoilers. So yeah, don't read things out of order!

I didn't really have an actual goal with this story when I started other than "Do something to mash Star Wars and Mass Effect together." There are about a million ways to cross sci-fi universes over when no such thing exists in canon—wormholes, time travel, godlike beings, and "This is just the way things are" being some. I figured I'd go for one that didn't require too much explaining, except then the whole inter-galactic government thing came up. It sounded ridiculous, even to me, so I made fun of it in-universe as much as possible.

This wasn't ever written with the explicit intent of creating an Aesop (or even Anvilicious, or Some Anvils Need To Be Dropped) though I'm sure it probably sounds like one or more of the below items.

Unity: Double-edged sword. Unity demanding exclusion isn't unity at all. Unity requiring absolute fealty is a cult.

Responsibility: There are times to let someone else handle the problem, times to get help, and times to solve the problem yourself. Choosing the wrong option can make a mess of things.

Friendship: LoneWolfDepressed!Shepard takes quite a beating for being such a bitch, until the paragon wins in the end. Addict!Lilith's god complex gets her busted down to human again when she has a Heel Realization.

Forgiveness: Give a person seeking redemption a chance. They might surprise you.

Redemption: People can change for the better.

Sacrifice: War doesn't always make sense. "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life." War doesn't care. Some people who are completely innocent are going to end up in harm's way. Some will give their lives to create a chance for others.

Words/Deeds/Intents: The United Defense Command is very big on "everyone work together" but not in a nice way. The subsequent governments use similar words, but with entirely different purposes behind them.

Victory: What does it mean to "win?" What's the price? Is it worth it to reach that supposed "victory" given the price?

Where'd the Borderlands thing come from? A combination of Borderlands 2's arrival and a shout-out to "No Gods, Only Guns" by Peptuck whose Mass Effect/Borderlands fusion inspired me to wire _three_ universes together. I'm guessing my story is far darker though.

Will there be more? No promises. If you haven't noticed, I published the whole thing in one day (after more than two years of writing). I didn't want to put people in a situation like my last serious attempt ("Breach") where I simply lost interest and abandoned the project. Either finish it, or don't publish it at all—that's my personal rule. I also don't like the pressure of people wanting more of something, thus finding myself saying "One chapter every X days" or similar. The story is designed to stand on its own without prequels or sequels, but that doesn't make either of the above impossible.

Are you a sadist? You killed _! Nope. Just a writer whose story took off in a totally unexpected direction. I hate to be one of those guys, but to paraphrase J.K. Rowling, the plot just kind of took me there. I had no plans for the darker UDC/Addict!Lilith arc until it just sort of happened on its own. Lilith was supposed to die transporting the Vault Hunters to the space station. And I figured I'd heal Liara with Eridium/Siren powers.

It was supposed to end with Star Wars/TGR beats Reapers, thereby creating a mess. Instead, it zig-zagged the whole "Nice job breaking it, hero" trope all over the place.


End file.
